


The Therapist (Old Version)

by MalthusIndex



Series: Cephalon Malthus (Old Canon/Version) [1]
Category: Warframe
Genre: DEAD FIC, Gen, Loss of Identity, Memory Alteration, Memory Loss, Therapy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-02-28
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:07:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 41,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22073005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MalthusIndex/pseuds/MalthusIndex
Summary: THIS IS A DEAD FIC!I'm writing a new version, since I didn't like the path this version of The Therapist took. Read it if you like, but it'll probably never be finished. The new version can be found on my account under the name "The Last Therapist".---Willingly converted into a Cephalon behind the Orokin Empire's back, Malthus promises to provide stable mental care and trauma support to the Tenno - at the cost of his own past and identity. Taking up a much-needed role as their advisor, counselor and therapist, he does his best to accommodate a wide range of social, mental and trauma-related issues, hoping to give them the support they've deserved since the Orokin days. Although he doesn't remember who he was, or who created him, there may be another presence out there that has a very, very personal connection to the truth...
Series: Cephalon Malthus (Old Canon/Version) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1599184
Comments: 36
Kudos: 41





	1. Much-Needed Help

**Author's Note:**

> This is an ongoing story I've written for an RP character I set up. It's my first "real" RP character, just like this is my first "real" piece of fanfiction-style writing, so you'll probably see major improvements as I learn and start getting a little better at this.
> 
> Malthus is a character that emulates a large part of my desire to help people, and fills in a gap that I've always thought about in the Warframe universe - the lack of stable support system for the Tenno that isn't based on a rewards system or the war as a whole.
> 
> (You can find Malthus (the character) at @CephalonMalthus on Twitter).

“You understand the consequences for what you’re about to do, don’t you, Matus?”  
  
The two figures stood beneath one of the Tower’s many dim blue lights that lined in the interior workings of the otherwise-bright structure. It had taken a long, long time for this opportunity to present itself.  
  
“I’m very much aware of the consequences, as well as the role you would play in them.” The frustration in Matus’ voice wasn’t born from anger towards any peer, nor the risks – it was simply annoyance against the Orokin’s lack of compassion. “I’m not doing this to gain favour with anybody, unlike you. You, and all of _them_." He spat out the last word like poison, but continued to speak as he began fiddling with the delicate instruments that controlled the Tower’s neural sentry, his hands moving on instinct. One mistake, and they would alert dozens of Dax to their location. “You know how I feel about the Tenno. Nothing we’re doing is actually helping them, and you’re all too blind to understand why. Have you ever personally tried just talking to one of them?”  
  
Matus’ associate scoffed, smirking at the question he’d been asked and leaning back against the opposite wall, arms folded. “Talk? To one of those void devils? You really believe you can change them, don’t you?” There was an awkward pause. “I supported you through all of your struggles and… problems, but I can’t believe you sympathise with those creatures.”

“Why do you call them _creatures_? I know you’re very supportive of the Orokin, but I told you before, it’s not fair on them-“

“I call them creatures because they _are_ creatures. They’re not _like us_ , Matus, that’s the point. They’ve made no attempt to integrate themselves and they’re very likely to hurt us, especially if we get in the way. Not like the Cephalons.”  
  
There was a soft snap as Matus clipped off a tiny golden wire from the bank of machinery in front of them, stuffing it into the satchel at his side. “I’m going to become one of them.”  
  
“What, the Tenno?”  
  
“No.” He vaguely waved his arm, pointing at nothing in particular. “Them, the Cephalons.” Another wire was pulled out, and a small white cylinder removed. “You remember how they’re created: ripped out of their bodies and twisted into servants. Nobody would expect a Cephalon to exist on its own terms. Nobody would interfere if I gave the Tenno some much-needed help.”  
  
“Of course I remember, I’ve watched the procedure at least thirty times. None of them were willing, but I’ve got no sympathy for criminals and murderers. How do you expect to fool them into converting you into one? You’re not going to kill somebody, are you?”  
  
Another wire came out, and a light on one of the panels dimmed. Matus cursed under their breath and hastily re-connected two others, causing it to flicker back to life. “I won’t trick them, I’ll do it myself. I’m an engineer, I can get almost anywhere as long as I have an excuse to be there. It’s not like they’re making a new AI every day.”

"Matus, I can't endorse this. I know you're sympathetic to the Tenno, but that's not a strength. It doesn't make you better than us." He placed one arm around the other engineer, sighing. "I dislike the Tenno, but that doesn't make me a bad person. I love you, and I don’t want to take your agency away from you, but I don't want you throwing away your life for a group that you don't care about."

"Normally I would agree, but they've been through so much pain, Apra. They need somebody to guide them and control the things that cause them to go mad or suffer breakdowns. I'm willing to give up my body to do it."

“But then I’ll lose you.”

It was Matus’ turn to sigh as he leaned into his co-worker and off-the-records partner, his voice wavering ever so slightly. “I’m doing for them what I did for you. Look, we’re engineers. We’re not going anywhere in life, and things between us haven’t been great. You know it, I know it, and I’m sure most of the team knows it. I don’t want to stick around on some false hope and ignore the bigger problem here.”  
  
There was a lull in the conversation as both sides considered what that could mean for the pair, as well as their relationship… or, at least, the fragments of it that they had left. Eventually, the other engineer spoke up, his voice full of worry. “You’ll need somebody to push the button, so to speak. A Cephalon needs a creator – that’s just how the process works. There’s no guarantee that you’ll still be you either, even if it works.”  
  
Holding up the white object he’d removed earlier, Matus began to study the text written on the side, comparing it some physical notes he had written ahead of time in an old journal he had managed to swipe. “Well, if I’m wrong and this kills me, it’s no skin off your nose. Why do you care?”

The reply was short and terse. “Because if you die, I lose you, and I don’t get why you don’t understand that.”

Matus chuckled, handing him the white cylinder and smiling. “You won’t lose me, you’ll get me back forever. That’s how Cephalons work.”

“It won’t be the same. You won’t be _you_ , Matus, and I want _you_. Plus, if you do this, I’ll be the one who’s forced into pushing the button for you. I can’t have that on my conscience.”

“You’ve always dreamed of having the authority, and I know you’ve shown me that side of yourself many times.” Apra blushed slightly, but didn’t verbalise any response. “How would you like the power to create a Cephalon? I’d let you decide on the colours.”  
  
= = =  
  
“Welcome, Tenno Jara. I trust you are feeling well?”  
  
The young woman laughed, as she always did. Malthus kept up the very format greeting for that reason: laugher was a good healer, and Jara would laugh every single time, without fail. This was her thirtieth period of contact with him in the past few Earth weeks, and it definitely wouldn’t be the last.  
  
“As well as always. Did you get those pictures I sent you a few days ago?”  
  
Ah, yes, the pictures. Malthus didn’t usually receive images from the Tenno themselves – at least not outside of questionable circumstances or childish pranks – but this one had always been different. She liked to change her clothing almost constantly, whether it was Vent Rat gear from Fortuna or a high-class gown bought from the Void trader. In this case, the latter.  
  
“I did indeed. You looked very nice – I’m happy to see this kind of confidence in you.”  
  
The Tenno was definitely far more confident these days: there was a certain glow to her smile, and she would walk with far more grace than many of the other subjects and charges the busy Cephalon had dealt with. There was something off, though – she seemed concerned, troubled even. It wasn’t much of a surprise, considering how the Tenno would regularly face death and destruction on an extreme scale.  
  
“Malthus, can I… ask you something personal?”  
  
“Of course.” This wasn’t the first time – she’d asked about the life of a Cephalon many times, in fact. Jara was one of the few Tenno who would regularly send inbox messages asking about the current state of the therapy programs, or how ‘her favourite counsellor’ was doing. “Is it another question concerning my future plans for my role as a Tenno therapist?”  
  
“No, it’s not that, I just...” she paused, nervously gathering her words. “Why do you never talk about yourself? Outside of being a therapist, I mean. Every time I ask, you shut me down, and I’ve been worried about you…”  
  
The question was surprising. Shut her down? Malthus didn’t remember doing anything of the sort – he simply redirected the conversation in ways that were beneficial to the Tenno. After all, that was his purpose. “I say nothing simply because I have nothing to say. I am a Cephalon. If you desire more specific information, I will happily give all of the data regarding my operational history and diagno-“  
  
“That’s not what I’m asking, Mally.” Mally. That nickname didn’t sit right. The Tenno girl knew that all too well: she only ever used it when she needed his full attention on a serious matter. “I’m asking about the old you.”  
  
“The old me?”  
  
“Before you were a Cephalon.”  
  
There was a long, uncomfortable pause. Very uncomfortable. Jara simply seemed confused at first, but her eyes widened as she realised that her question carried more weight than she had expected. Neither side said anything, but for vastly different reasons: the Tenno girl due to the awkward situation, and Malthus due to an unexpected sense of déjà vu towards… something. Something he couldn’t recall.  
  
The Tenno coughed nervously, petting a Kubrow that sat off to the side of her ship's camera and trying to mask her slowly-building concern. “Are you alright? Malthus?”  
  
There was no response. The Cephalon was still there holding the transmission open, but his form was dimming and shrinking ever so slightly, like a small animal backing away from a predator. Emotion-related precepts were firing off at random, demanding a specific action or response that he wasn’t ready – or able – to carry out.  
  
“There is no before.”  
  
Malthus wasn’t lying. Such a thing would be referenced in a memory or file somewhere, even just as a footnote. There was no before, no mention of a history beyond his first days as a social adjustment and emotional trauma assistance Cephalon. The absence of evidence meant that it was unrealistic to assume a past beyond what was known, and any attempt to do so may interfere with his abilities to support and protect the Tenno.  
  
The rotating pink cube that made up most of his visible ‘body’ stopped spinning for a brief moment as his mind was overwhelmed with unwanted thoughts. By the time it started moving again, Jara had closed the transmission between the two. Had he scared her off? The idea of harming a Tenno is such a way was concerning, but Jara was strong. One of the strongest he’d met.  
  
The counsellor opened up Jara’s file and added a short note, which simply read: ‘may require extra comforting during her next therapy session’. Her safety and happiness came first, as with all of his Tenno charges. That was how the system worked. She would probably send another message within an Earth day or two, and they could pick up where they left off, no harm done. Hopefully this interaction didn’t undo any of the progress they’d made – she was a shining example of a Tenno who had improved beyond their limits through proper care and support.  
  
There was a soft buzzing sensation inside Malthus’ mind as another Tenno asked to initiate contact – it wasn’t on the appointment schedule, but that didn’t matter. One small confirmation later, and the channel was open. It was time to get back to work.  
  
“Welcome, Tenno Erz. I am glad to see you again. Has your Kavat stopped scratching at the decorations yet?”  
  
The young male Tenno chuckled in response, as he always did. Laughter was a good healer.  
  
= = =  
  
Apra stood above the body of his friend and former lover, their heat drained from their skin and their eyes staring into death. By the time the Dax pushed their way into the room, Matus was already gone. From their perspective, it had been murder, and there were no witnesses there to correct them. None but Apra himself, the engineer who had just thrown away his entire future and career.  
  
No matter how much he pleaded, they refused to believe that anybody would arrange such a convoluted plan to become a mindless Cephalon. The locked room, the lack of observers, the secrecy - it all pointed towards a revenge plot, perhaps an attempt to steal Matus' position or kill off some competition. Given the circumstances, as well as the Orokin's twisted sense of irony, there was only one suitable punishment.  
  
A second Cephalon was soon born, this time unwillingly. Apra's body was thrown away, no longer offering any practical use due to his age and many, many injuries over the years. But, eager to convert him, the Orokin forgot to check for the damages that Matus had caused while setting up the entire procedure in the first place. Apra didn't feel calm and cool as the Kuva overtook his mind, like he was supposed to - he felt hot, like his mind was burning from the inside out. He tried to bluff, pretend that he had been turned into just another brainless puppet of the Orokin, but he knew that he wasn't. He kept all of his memories and all of his desires. When the time came, he would act on them, but for now, he had to learn to survive in this new form.

They slammed him inside some kind of satellite, a design he had never seen before, decorated with ornate gold trims and pure white outer surfaces that marked him as part of the Orokin Empire. No, not part of it... a _creation_ of it. He was little more than a tool to them now, and as far as they knew, that's all he would ever be.

But Apra promised himself, silently and without regret, that this wouldn't be the end of his life.


	2. Personal Fears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Past or present, the infestation will always play a part in somebody's history...

“This better be the right key...”

The Nyx took a quick glance around the remains of the once-shining Orokin structure, checking for any signs of the Infested. Most of them had been dealt with, but no matter how many you killed, they never seemed to be truly gone. Slotting the golden key into its matching socket, the Tenno controlling her let out a satisfied “Nice.” as it slid in perfectly. The door was unlocked.

Once it slid open, though, he noticed that something was off. The glowing golden sphere that held the Orokin artefacts was missing - in its place was a small white cylinder, inscribed with some handwritten notes. He was a little bit disappointed, but his curiosity still got the better of him.

“Uh, Ordis? What’s this?”

He bent down to pick up the tiny object, gripping it between two of Nyx’s slender fingers. Right on cue, the transmission from his loyal Cephalon came through.

“That appears to be some kind of Orokin storage device. These designs are quite rare - they can be accessed remotely at close distances. Maroo may be able to shed some light on- oh!” The cylinder’s top surface extended slightly, startling the poor Tenno. “Operator, I... did not expect it to open from a simple scan.”

Oh, right. Helios. The sentinel must have taken an interest in the object and given it a quick scan, completely unprompted. The background noise of the creaking derelict made the Tenno incredibly uncomfortable - the infestation were smarter than they appeared, and there was a small chance that they'd been tricked into opening a path to something that should have remained sealed away. Before either of them could speculate on what had happened, a new voice came through on a separate transmission, sounding oddly exhausted.

“Hello? What are you?”

The transmission itself was directed at Helios, but Ordis took the liberty of sharing it across their shared private channel. “I am Cephalon Ordis, an-“

“Cephalon...” the voice grumbled. “...another Cephalon...”

“Yes! Hold on a moment, I must... discuss something with my Operator.” Ordis’ voice took on a much more worried, slightly hushed tone as he switched to direct communication. “Operator, do you remember what happened the last time we found a Cephalon in the grip of the infestation? I still feel awful about what happened to Jordas... please be careful!”

The unknown Cephalon spoke again, to nobody in particular. “I am a Cephalon. I must support the Te... the Ten...”

The man behind the Nyx spoke up again. “The Tenno?”

Hearing that term again made the Cephalon's voice warp and smoothen out slightly, as if he had recognised an old friend. “The Tenno. I must support the Tenno.”

"Well, go ahead. I'm right here."

= = =

"I just haven't been able to rest. I keep seeing that... thing in my dreams, like it's going to swallow me or something..."

"The infested are a common source of nightmares, you're merely reacting as any being would." Malthus' humanoid form sipped at her simulated coffee, doing her best to reassure the young Tenno boy. As usual with this particular subject, the Cephalon was appearing as a female of his own species, just like he had asked during their first meeting. "Are you scared of the creature you call Lephantis, or disgusted by it?"

"Does it matter?"

"Absolutely. Fear is something that lessens with knowledge, time and strength. Physical disgust is almost entirely focused on the visual part of a threat, and takes familiarity to overcome." She placed the mug of coffee, saucer included, down on the small table that separated their two chairs. Everything in the 'room' was a simulation, but it seemed to be realistic enough to make the Tenno more comfortable. "You can be disgusted by dirt and grime without fearing it, just as you can fear a weapon's power without experiencing disgust."

There was a short lull in the conversation, which gave Malthus a chance to review the young man's file behind the veil of the simulation. First name Morn, surname irrelevant, age and history all up to date. Nothing to suggest any long-term trauma regarding the infested as a whole. Perhaps it was simply a rational fear of the creature: after all, the infestation had little regard for symmetry or visual aesthetics, and they were well-known for being absolutely horrifying to most normal people. Tenno were... 'less normal' than most, but they still had their quirks, just like any sentient or sapient creature.

The Tenno spoke again, his voice betraying a small amount of vulnerability that hadn't been there before. "I think I'm scared of it. I know I shouldn't be, but everything about the way it looks just... my brain completely locks up..."

"Morn, it's okay." She leaned over and placed her hand on his head, simulating the sensation of slowly stroking his hair and watching his anxious posture relax a little. "I'm proud of you for admitting that. Do you have any idea how many Tenno would refuse to be honest with me?" She wasn't lying - for every Tenno who was self-conscious of their abilities and strengths, there was one who refused to accept or reveal their weaknesses.

There was something therapeutic about stroking a Tenno's hair, even if it was merely a simulation of the real thing. Malthus had found that it was one of the most direct ways of providing attention and physical contact, but it was only appropriate in very specific situations. Taking on a form they trusted seemed to make them more receptive to this kind of contact, although many of the male subjects had... _particular_ preferences when it came to physical attributes.

In this particular case, Morn had requested a very professional, formal set of clothing, along with a female body that was significantly taller than him. Part of this may have been due to male gaze, but it also gave the Cephalon a chance to use a form that had some kind of authority over the Tenno, even if it was misplaced.

"Do you think your fear of this creature is something you can overcome, if you try hard enough?"

The Tenno boy nodded under her hand, still nervous but much calmer than before. She paused for a moment, then drew her hand away, leaning back into her chair, smirking as he raised his head like a disappointed puppy. "Do you know _why_ you are so fearful of the creature? Can you tell me?"

"I don't know... I guess it's just big, and scary, and looks really creepy. It also tried to flatten me with a giant scythe, the biggest blade I think I've ever seen!"

"Look behind you."

The Tenno turned, and Malthus watched his pulse graph suddenly spike at the sight of a tiny Lephantis, about a foot high in total. It slowly crawled around his chair, coming to rest at his feet - by that point, Morn had completely tucked his legs in so that no part of his body came near the floor. His vital signs were fluctuating, and he seemed speechless.

"Are you still scared?"

"You **brought** it here!? Why is it so small? What are you trying to pull here?"

"Don't worry, Morn. Please, just relax. It can't hurt you."

She waved her hand - mostly for show, since Malthus had complete control of the simulation anyway - and the tiny infested creature toddled over to her chair like a pet. She reached down and picked it up by its belly, letting its legs dangle in the air uselessly. It almost looked like a Floof at this scale, and the Cephalon certainly had the power to make it feel like one in the simulation if they desired.

Morn was still hiding away at the far back of his chair, doing his best to maintain eye contact with Malthus rather than the tiny creature in her hands. "Please get rid of it..."

"Morn, I would like you to touch the creature."

His heart rate spiked again, and he drew his legs slightly closer, shielding himself from the outside world. "No."

"I won't force you to do anything, Morn - but please, listen to me. I have never put you in harm's way before. I respect you, and I would never try to hurt you. This is Lephantis in appearance, but not Lephantis in danger."

An awkward pause followed while the Tenno sat there, conflicted and unsure what to do. His pulse hadn't slowed down, but after a few seconds, one of his hands began to extend out from the curled-up shell he'd created. Malthus did the same, bringing the tiny Lephantis within a few inches of his fingertips.

"You can stop at any time. I promise."

Still looking away, the young man stretched his arm out just enough to brush against the body of the creature. He seemed incredibly afraid, judging by the way his muscles were trembling slightly, but wasn't pulling away, even though the option was readily available to him.

Slowly, he raised his head and opened his eyes, staring at the tiny creature touching his palm. Malthus gave him the best smile she could manage in this form, trying to calm his mind without actively taking the mini-Lephantis away.

"Are you still scared?"

"A little..."

His voice had slightly more confidence behind it, although he was still clearly struggling to maintain his composure.

"That's alright. There's nothing wrong with feeling fear. I'm very, very proud of you, Morn." She slowly moved the little creature away from him, placing it back down on the ground. As soon as it was free of her hand, she deleted it from the simulation, adding an unnecessary visual effect to draw more attention to the fact that it was gone. "I've gotten rid of it. See? No more Lephantis, and no danger, just like I promised."

The young Tenno stared at her, nodded, and looked down at his legs, slowly placing them back in the normal position once he was sure that the creature had truly vanished. He was a little bit shaken, but his vital signs were returning to normal, at least according to the data being sent by the simulation itself.

Standing up from her chair, Malthus stretched out her arms and stepped over to the young man, doing her best to imitate the way most human females would walk when wearing professional clothing - it wasn't something that came naturally, after all. Once she was behind his chair, she placed one hand on his head again, giving his hair more gentle strokes.

"Don't feel bad about your fear. Even **I** get scared by certain things, and so do all of your Tenno peers. There's absolutely nothing wrong with being scared, but you need to make sure it doesn't dominate your life." She pulled her hand away, then gave the top of his head a few quick pats with her palm to reassure him. "You've been brave today. If you like, I can present the same simulated creature to you again during our next session, and continue from there if you improve. Like I said earlier, one of the best ways to overcome fear is _time_."

= = =

Ordis had been working for several hours to try and fix the new Cephalon, but he still wasn't anywhere close to restoring it to full functionality. Not only was it hard to get an entire consciousness out of such a difficult-to-use storage device, but this Orbiter wasn't designed to accommodate a second Cephalon alongside the first, especially when it was in such an awful state.

The Nyx that had been fighting through the derelict was stood motionless in the arsenal. The Tenno that previously controlled it was taking a short stroll around their ship, trying to stretch their legs and kill time until some kind of progress could be made. To put it simply, Cal was bored, not to mention exhausted from taking on swarms of infested time and time again: having to slaughter your way through a tide of twisted, malformed creatures really took a toll on your mind.

Ordis' excited voice suddenly broke through the background noise of the ship's various systems. "Operator! I have connected the new Cephalon to an isolated piece of hardware. They will be able to communicate directly without having access to anything important on board."

"Thanks, Ordis. Can you tell him to send a transmission?"

"I'm... afraid not, Operator. I didn't want to take any risks by connecting him to the outside world. For all I know, he may still be linked to the infestation, or a neural sentry. You'll have to listen to the physical speaker directly. For your own safety, of course."

A speaker? Cal was used to having messages sent straight to him, and it had been a long time since he'd had to rely on a physical medium to do it. Better safe and sorry, though, especially after some of the previous problems the Orbiter had experienced.

He decided to head over to the foundry and see what had become of their new visitor - hopefully Ordis hadn't mangled him up too badly, since he hadn't been working with any blueprints or schematics. Stepping into the main room and making his way over to the completed Cephalon housing, he noticed that it was clearly made with whatever the ship had on-hand: the main body of the object was made out of spare Harrow pieces, mostly the various chassis they'd picked up during missions. Exposed wires and circuitry linked everything directly to a big, bulky speaker, built out of a left-over Javlok capacitor and some seemingly random scraps of metal.

"Uh. Hey there... Cephalon. Are you able to hear me?"

"You are the Tenno." The voice was much clearer than it had been on the derelict. Healthier, less muted and hesitant.

"Yes, I am. We found you in a derelict, locked inside one of the sealed vaults. Who put you there?"

"I have always been there."

That was unexpected. Ordis didn't say anything, but Cal was almost certain that he was listening in. The Tenno himself didn't really know how to react, either. If the Cephalon wasn't lying, that claim meant that he was fresh from the Orokin era, like food sealed in a can. He'd have to contact Suda after this: who knows what kind of knowledge he might have about the Origin system's history?

"Did you seal yourself in there to avoid the infestation?"

"I do not understand. Who is the infestation?"

Ah. That was a problem.

"You don't know? You must have been around when they were created, right? Do you remember?"

"I have always been a Cephalon. I have always been in the vault."

Ordis decided to interject. "I believe the 44th Precept may apply here, Operator. It seems like he's lost his memory, or isn't able to access anything but his basic precepts and instructions." He sounded sad, but it was probably more out of concern for his own stability: Ordis wasn't the most pristine Cephalon, after all, so the idea of a Cephalon suffering such a flaw was probably an uncomfortable concept. "Even while I was attempting to restore him to working order, I was unable to detect any hints of stored memories other than the extremely basic information."

Cal picked up the Cephalon's new 'body' and carried it up the ramp to the front of the Orbiter, activating the navigation controls. "Let's get you to a relay. I'm sure somebody there will know what to do with you."


	3. Business As Usual

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This will hopefully be the last "short" chapter (under 2000 words) for this piece. I'm probably going to increase the length quite a lot from here on out, if I'm able to, so look forward to that. Just an FYI, for those who care.

The first words Malthus heard upon his re-activation weren’t stored in his memory: he received them and processed them, but his memory hadn’t yet activated to the point where he could retain new information.

“Alright, it’s working. Pay up.”

The Cephalon watched in silence as a Tenno, one he’d never seen before, passed some kind of Orokin object over to an equally-unfamiliar woman. She didn’t look like a Tenno, but he couldn’t be entirely sure.

It took a moment for his visual mediums to adjust. Whatever they were, they must have been newly plugged-in, because nothing about them felt comfortable. As soon as he was able to make out details, he noticed that they were no longer in the pristine Orokin vault he’d been hiding in for such a long time: this place was dark and cold, filled with scraps of dozens of machines that he’d never seen before. There were crates piled up to the ceiling, and banner strung up against walls that had no business being covered.

“Fine, here. One Zambuka sculpture.” Whoever the Tenno man was, his voice seemed to be filling more of the room. Perhaps he was closer. Malthus really couldn’t tell, everything felt so blurry and disjointed. “These things aren’t easy to get your hands on, Maroo. If I find out you’ve broken him, I’m coming to take it back, with interest.”

Before he could hear any reply from the strange woman, the Cephalon felt everything shut off for a moment, isolating him from the outside world. When all of his senses flickered back to life, he found himself somewhere new – he seemed to be floating awkwardly, as if he was suspended in the air with ropes or hung from a raised object.

Malthus couldn’t help but gasp as a smirking Tenno face appeared in his vision, the same one that he had seen a moment earlier.

“Are you alive in there?”

The Cephalon tried to give a full response, but he felt slow, and sluggish. A strained “Yes…” escaped whatever speakers served as his ‘mouth’ in this form.

“Thank the Lotus! Ordis and I were trying to find a place to ‘plug you in’, but we had no ideas what to do with you. I managed to scrape up something that could convince Maroo to fix you, though.”

 _Maroo_. Not a name he knew, but one that might be worth remembering, if she could fix Cephalons.

“You gave me a body.”

The Tenno laughed awkwardly, his smile fading slightly. “Well… yes and no. Yes, you have a body. But no, your body is basically a small computer stuck in a satchel.”

“A satchel.”

“Uh… yeah.”

“You placed me. In a satchel.”

Malthus wasn’t normally the kind of person to react this way – after all, this young man was a Tenno. He must support the Tenno. However, something about the idea of being reduced to such a sorry state left him with little room to think positively about the situation.

“Look, we had no idea what you were! We couldn’t just plug you into the Relay or anything, you might have turned it into a full-on battle station or something. And call me selfish, but I’m not going to pay for a Relay room for a random Cephalon that I found on a glorified shiny trinket hunt.”

The Tenno boy sighed, slipping the satchel over his shoulder. Malthus was able to rotate his vision, but only by a limited amount – clearly, this ‘body’ had been put together very hastily. This ‘Relay’ was an impressive structure, much more open than the Tower he had settled in all that time ago.

“Do you have _any_ idea what kind of Cephalon you are? At all?”

Something in his precepts seemed to flare up. For whatever reason, that question was causing a tingle in the back of his mind, like a spider crawling up the back of his head. The sensation grew bigger and bigger, until it was almost impossible to ignore: curious to see what would happen, the Cephalon let it overtake him, and-

“I am Cephalon Malthus, Social Adjustment and Emotional Trauma Assistance Cephalon. It is my duty to keep the Tenno emotionally happy, mentally healthy, and fully prepared for the future they may have to face. Do you require any kind of care?”

Malthus didn’t even realise he’d said anything until the last sentence had already been sent. Had it been hard-wired into him? Was that even how Cephalons worked? At least he had some kind of established identity. Although it felt like there was a second level, just beyond his reach - a second set of precepts that weren't quite in focus. Perhaps he would need to deal with those later.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Malthus. I’m Cal, my Cephalon back on the ship was Ordis, just so you know. But anyway, that’s interesting… you’re some kind of therapist?”

“I… suppose you could say that.”

“Then I will, if you have no problem with it.”

The Cephalon felt an unusual sense of weakness as Cal started to carry him back to the ship – he wasn’t used to being physically moved like this, and the body he had been given made him feel sick. Or it would have, if he was capable of feeling such a thing. Was he? A lot of that information had been scrubbed from his memory, although he ironically couldn’t remember why, or how.

“Tenno Cal. What will you do with me now?”

The young man turned his head slightly to look at the bundle of metal, speakers and camera parts tucked under his arm. “I have no idea. My ship can’t support two Cephalons, and I don’t want to replace Ordis. Then again, there might be a job opening for you back near Earth.”

= = =

Apra was furious.

Not only had they turned him into a Cephalon for a crime that he wasn’t responsible for, but they had abandoned him. He didn’t like the Orokin one bit, but at least having them around kept him from getting bored. Then one day, contact with his Tower had ceased. Then another. Then another. Soon, entire ships and sectors of space were being cut off. That had been a long time ago.

Now the Cephalon simply floated there, stuck inside a horrible, half-disabled probe that had originally been sent out to monitor Earth. He had watched the planet ever since, recording all transmissions and ship arrivals, sending thousands upon thousands of reports back to his Orokin superiors. Not a single one had been acknowledged since then.

What’s worse, that damned Matus was probably still out there somewhere, enjoying his life as an immortal plaything for Tenno with no friends or delusions that they actually mattered to somebody. He was the one who had started this entire mess.

He was so lonely.

The boredom and monotony of endless silence were suddenly broken by a short burst of static, broadcast directly to the open area. It was only a mere second, but it was enough to direct his attention straight into deep space.

Another broadcast came through, much stronger – and, presumably, closer.

“Tagreget dokater, koddekt ut!”

It was the Grineer language! He had only heard it in small pieces while working alongside them as an engineer, but that didn’t matter. The Orokin were finally here to rescue him, or at least give him a new purpose!

He didn’t protest as the ships pulled up. He didn’t even protest at the strange fighters nudging him into the larger, more bulbous-looking vessel that slowly slid up behind him. He was safe now – in the hands of his masters, and ready to continue his search for Matus once more.

Everything was going to be just fine.

= = =

After a long period of waiting, tucked inside the closed satchel and unable to see, Malthus was finally allowed to get a glimpse of the outside world. Cal had explained that he didn’t want to take any risks, just in case Malthus had a threat, which was a reasonable position to take. After all, this place was entirely new to him – it wouldn’t be hard for an unmonitored Cephalon to break something important.

He was removed from the satchel and placed on what seemed to be a table, followed by his microphone and audio receivers being disabled with a few quick motions of the Tenno’s hands. It seemed ominous at first, but Malthus noticed that Cal was walking away from him, towards a group of humanoids in similar clothing to that other girl. Maroo? Yes, that was her name.

The group, plus Cal, proceeded to talk for a while, although Malthus didn’t hear even a single word. He was starting to get anxious – he didn’t mind being silenced, as long as it was on his own terms. This just felt like a violation of what little free will he had.

Several minutes passed before Cal returned, squeezing and tapping a few spots on the Cephalon’s ‘body’ to re-enable all of his audio systems. Before he was even able to ask what had happened, the Tenno spoke.

“I’ve been able to get you a tiny room in this Relay, on one condition. You do therapy, don’t you?”

“Yes, I… I am a therapist.”

“Then you need to perform therapy these syndicate members if they ever ask for it. They’re representatives of Steel Meridian.”

Malthus didn’t recognise that group. A collective of Tenno, perhaps? He would be all too willing to offer them support!

“Of course! Any Tenno is welcome!”

“No, they’re… they’re not Tenno, Malthus. They’re Grineer."

_Oh._

_Grineer_.

That was… unexpected. They weren’t technically covered by Malthus’ precepts, but he had nothing against attempting to help them. But why would they fall under a name like that? He didn’t remember any Grineer having that kind of identity – the poor things were generally work fodder for the Orokin’s various high-risk jobs.

“I will attempt to help them to the best of my abilities, Tenno Cal.”

“Wait. Before you accept, you need to understand what that means. If anybody finds out, you’ll be linked to them, politically. You don’t want that. Try to keep it… ehh, off the record.”

Not only did he have to serve Grineer – not that he had any problem with that – but he would need to lie to Tenno as well? That felt morally wrong, but if it was the only option to ensure that he had a safe place to start his work…

“I will try my hardest. Please let this Steel Meridian group know that I am happy to work with them.”


	4. Being Malthus, Part One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Malthus attempts to get used to life in this strange new world that he knows next to nothing about, for better or for worse.

The room Malthus had been given was uncomfortably claustrophobic. To be fair, it didn’t matter much to him, given that he was a Cephalon, but he had far greater concerns for the Tenno he’d be helping. It was barely three meters across in any direction, with a smaller door than he had expected, given the size of most other spaces in the Relay. Perhaps this room had been used for storing materials in the past, but it was too well-designed for such a basic purpose - it certainly looked clean, at any rate.

He had only been here for two days so far, and the majority of that time had been spent getting himself prepared at a data storage level. Creating the proper filing systems for Tenno profiles, developing a stable visual form for himself, and even just trying to perfect his greeting for new charges. Everything _had_ to be perfect.

A handful of Tenno had stopped by to visit, as well as other Relay-dwellers and visitors who wanted to see what this new little room had in store for them. Something about the idea of seeing so many Tenno in one place made Malthus... _bubbly_. It was, in a way, a dream come true – after all, his precepts said that he had to support the Tenno, and here they were, en masse! He had even been able to speak with a few of them, diverting part of his focus towards their tales of the System and the various things they’d seen.

He was very sure of one thing – this was _not_ the system he had been a part of all that time ago, when he had been in that Vault. A few Tenno, including his selfless saver Cal, had informed him of the Orokin’s fate, and rise of the Infested – whatever they were – and the return of something called the Sentients. The latter was a vaguely… familiar concept, but his mind still drew blanks.

Of course, that wasn’t all that they had talked about. It was nice to hear the Tenno discuss things such as their pets, their hobbies, or occasionally even talk about their relationships with one another. Every time a Tenno got excited over something personal to them, Malthus felt a comforting warmth pulse through him. It was nice. He was… happy?

There were bad parts too. Some Tenno would mention less joyous things, such as the death of a close friend or the way that their Warframes had been damaged during battles. He had only a vague understanding of how these ‘Warframes’ worked, but they were certainly a majestic piece of equipment indeed. Again, they felt familiar, although he couldn’t place exactly why.

Some of the Tenno laughed at his statements. That felt good too, especially when he was _hoping_ to make them laugh. After so long inside that Vault, waiting for… for something that he couldn’t recall, he was glad to be among people who enjoyed his company.

There was one particular Tenno, a young woman named Lyri, who had spent quite a lot of time around him ever since he had been placed there. His body was still a pile of metal scraps and electronic parts, now connected to a few old physical servers that had been wheeled in as a temporary measure, but she didn’t seem to mind. In fact, she had suggested ideas for a future visual form, sketched out on plain paper.

She was an impressive artist, with a very creative mind behind her work. All of her ideas had a very glorious flair to them, ranging from fully-sized humanoid bodies to a floating brain suspended in a spinning layer of rings. Malthus appreciated her efforts, but in truth, he had been giving a lot of thought towards the matter himself. There was no reason he couldn’t change it later, but a first impression mattered.

Other than that, Lyri had been very friendly towards him even when she wasn’t pitching her ideas. In fact, she had been the main source of history that he had relied on when trying to get ‘up to speed’ with this strange new world he’s awoken in. Every time he had asked a question that other Tenno found extremely simple, she had been patient with him, calmly explaining the answer without even a hint of irritation or frustration.

In all honesty, he began to consider her a friend, if he was capable of having such things. Was he? That part still wasn’t clear, but it felt like he would understand everything sooner or later. His missing memories still had not returned to him, and he was beginning to wonder whether they ever would.

= = =

Malthus’ makeshift body sat on a small table in the middle of his tiny room, still working away at a filing system and attempting to make the best of the limited server space he had. Perhaps once he became useful enough, the Tenno would be willing to provide some upgrades – while he could simply buy some, he would never _dream_ of trying to charge the Tenno a fee for therapy. It simply wasn’t right.

He had just begun working on another set of empty files when his camera eye caught sight of Lyri hurrying in, a paper-and-string package tucked between her arms crossed and pulled against her chest. She seemed… pleased, although that was the case the majority of the time anyway. The Tenno girl smiled at him as his camera turned to look at her, and placed the package down next to him, giving the Cephalon a short but energetic wave.

“Hi, Malthus! I brought you something, straight from Baro Ki’teer’s own supply!”

 _Baro?_ Ah, yes, the void trader she had mentioned when explaining the Relay’s concourse layout.

“I am pleased to see you again, Tenno Lyri. I hope you didn’t spend too many of your hard-earned credits on me…”

He had only recently been able to work out the relative value of a single credit, and had been fretting over it ever since, worried that Tenno would do exactly what Lyri had done – go out and buy something for him. He was overjoyed at the idea of receiving a gift, but a Cephalon such as him wasn’t worthy of expensive items…

The Tenno shook her head, smiling. “Don’t worry, it’s not one of his _collector’s items_ from the void. It’s just a piece of spare gear he had lying around that I thought you might want.”

She unwrapped the paper package, pulling out a small, circular plate about twice the size of her palm, with the outer edge slightly thinner than the centre. In the middle was a small spherical nub of some kind, made of a dull yet surprisingly clean white material.

“Thank you, Tenno Lyri. What… is it?”

“I know it isn’t much, but this should make it a bit easier to see in here. It’s a security camera from Baro’s ship that he swapped out for a motion sensor instead. We just plug this in, and you should be able to see everything in the room! If we put it in a good spot, anyway.”

Well, a new camera was certainly going to be useful. Malthus didn’t like to admit it, but he was already running out of patience with this body – still, he was grateful for that Maroo woman’s assistance all the same. He would have to get in contact with her again later, especially once he was able to offer something in return for her services. She didn’t seem like the type who would work out of pure kindness.

“Would you mind assisting me in the installation process? I’m afraid I don’t have the necessary body parts.”

She chuckled at the statement, and he felt that warm feeling again. There was something almost addicting about it.

“Sure! Where do you think it should go?”

The Cephalon took a look around the room, diverting some of his mind towards working out the perfect spot to see the room. Ideally, he would have multiple cameras to cover all angles, but one would have to suffice for now.

“I will need to see the faces of any Tenno that enter, so I would advise against placing it near the door. Perhaps at the very back of the room? Or on this table, if you believe that would be more suitable.”

“Let’s try the table, that way it’s easy to move if you don’t like it. Sound good?”

“Yes. Thank you, Tenno Lyri.”

He watched through his scratchy, low-quality camera feed as she set about unwinding the camera’s cable and extending the small gripper legs on the bottom. It was a far more elaborate design than he had expected, although he didn’t have much to compare it to given his recent re-introduction to the system at large.

She placed the camera down on the table, gently sliding his body out of the way. A sharp fuzziness rushed through Malthus’ mind as he felt the new appendage being connected to his brain, followed by a rush of mild confusion as he began seeing from two places at once.

“Tenno Lyri, would you mind… cutting off my original camera? I find this disorienting…”

The young woman quickly leaned over and fiddled with something above his main eye, then it went dark, kicking him out of the visual feed and replacing it with the one from the new device. Everything looked so crisp and colourful now – it was clear that the two cameras were of vastly different qualities, and he was very thankful for the upgrade.

Lyri walked back around to the front of the table, nodding. “It should be good. How does it look? Baro was selling it off, and it wasn’t any of his ‘treasures’, so I have no idea it’s broken somet-“

“It’s perfect. I…”

Malthus didn’t mean to cut her off, but something in his mind was begging to be let out. He couldn’t tell exactly what it was, but he felt a slight tingle rush through him, along with that familiar warm feeling. Slowly, a word began to form, brushing against the many others that were filling his head.

“…I _love_ it.”

Lyri started laughing again, presumably at his awkward nature. He wasn’t offended, though – more taken aback that he had pulled such a word out of thin air. _Why?_ Why had his mind specifically wished to use ‘love’, rather than his usual vocabulary such as ‘appreciate’?

“Well, I’m really glad you do, Mal.” _Mal?_ Oh, yes, nicknames. He was aware of those. “I don’t mean this in a bad way, but you’re kind of a dork. You know that, right?”

He was confused. “A Dork? Is this some new Cephalon type I am not aware of?”

Apparently whatever he said set the Tenno off laughing again. Seeing and hearing her joy still felt… pleasant to him. He was very happy to have her there in that moment.

Her laughter slowly fell silent as a new figure walked in, dressed in the same outfits as the men that Cal had been meeting earlier. _Oh, yes, Steel Meridian, that was their name._ Now that Malthus had his new camera, he could identify much more significant details about their clothing, and the way they looked. In this case, it was a man, dressed from head to toe in a very practical, martial-looking clothing.

He stepped forward, nodding to the Tenno and turning towards the table where Malthus’ body lay.

“Cephalon Malthus, I’m sorry for the interruption, but Cressa Tal needs one of our associated to get a psychological evaluation. If possible.” There was clearly a hint of something in his words, and Malthus remembered the arrangement that he had made with them to get this room for himself…

“Of course. Please, send them in.”

The Steel Meridian operative seemed hesitant. “Are you sure? I understand that we asked for certain…” he turned to the Tenno, his full-face helmet hiding his expression. “...arrangement, but he is no ordinary Grineer.”

Lyri frowned and quietly left the room, giving his camera a quick thumbs-up from behind the other man. Malthus couldn’t tell if she was upset, but he really hoped she wasn’t – he liked it when she was smiling.

“I would be happy to help him! I will try my best, and give you a full report when the evaluation is completed!”

= = =

“Clem!”

“As I have already said, I am already of your name, there is no need to… are you listening to me, Grineer Clem?”

“Clem?”

“Yes, I am speaking to you.”

“Grakata!”

“No. Malthus. Mal- _fuss_.”

“Clem! Grakata.”

Malthus sighed. This was not the kind of job he had been expecting. He was so confused, how was he supposed to write a psychological report on a person like _this_? Still, he had to try his best. He had made an arrangement, and it would be rude to avoid keeping his end of the bargain, especially after Steel Meridian had been so generous by giving him this nice new home.

“Please, Grineer Clem, I am trying to do my best for you. If you would just cooperate-“

He was interrupted by the sound of his little room’s door sliding open. Rotating his view to the side to get a look at the new visitor, he was surprised to see another Grineer enter – a female, much closer to the human form than this Clem fellow was. Her clothing was just as warlike, and there was a wide grin plastered across her half-hooded face, which made him feel unusually nervous. Then again, the Tenno’s stories of the Grineer hadn’t painted a very nice picture of them.

She strolled up to Clem, placing one hand on his bulky armoured shoulder. “Alright, Clem, that’s enough. I think ya’ve tormented the poor thing enough.”

Clem responded in his usual fashion – with a “Clem” – and stood up from the small stool next to Malthus’ table, taking his two unusually-shaped weapons with him. The new woman took his place as he wandered out, leaning towards the Cephalon’s camera with her arms resting on the table.

“So you’re the little guy who got New Loka screamin’ about how ‘the Cephalons are going to corrupt our pure minds’, are ya? You’re not as flashy as I expected.”

Malthus felt slightly stunned. _Who was this woman? Did she just interrupt a physiological evaluation? Who are New Loka? Pure minds?_

She seemed to notice his confusion and pulled back her hood a little bit, exposing more of her damaged, mildly-decayed and clearly-smirking face. “Cressa Tal, Steel Meridian leader. Sorry about Clem, I couldn’t resist sending him in.”

“Then hello, Grineer Cressa Tal.”

She seemed to shrug at what Malthus said, then sighed, looking around the room.

“Listen, whatever my operatives told you, it was a big fat lie. We bought this room to use it as a holding cell for any moles that the Grineer might have sent after us.”

“Are you… not Grineer also?”

Cressa Tal looked slightly surprised at the question, but Malthus didn’t find it that odd. Why would she be worried about spies from her own people?

“It doesn’t matter. Point is, I never signed off on the deal between you and my syndicate. They made the arrangement behind my back, and I still don’t know why. Probably trying to trick some money out of the Tenno who wanted to buy it from ‘em.”

No, that couldn’t be right. Why would somebody trick a therapist like that? There had to be some other explanation. “Are you saying I have to leave, Grin… Miss Tal?”

“Ordinarily, I’d say yes, because our work is important. But a certain Tenno has been spreading the word that he picked up a therapist Cephalon from a derelict. Are _you_ that therapist?”

“Yes, I am. Cephalon Malthus, Social Adjustment and Emot-“

“Don’t… look, this war is ruining just as many lives as it’s ending. I can fight the enemy, but if I can’t stop the survivors from dyin’ by their own hands from the stress of it all, there’s no point fightin’ at all. I’ll let you keep this room, and I’ll even give ya an honorary membership in my syndicate, but only if you open up to any refugees that need your help. Not just Tenno.”

Malthus thought for a second. Was there really a downside to this? He had no idea what a syndicate was, but it couldn’t be a bad thing, and he had no qualms with letting average people receive therapy if they needed it. Cal _had_ told him to keep his connection to Steel Meridian under wraps… but surely that wouldn’t matter if he was helping everybody, would it? Speaking of which, there was that other group she had mentioned…

“Miss Tal, can you tell me about this… New Loka?”

She Grineer woman snorted, half out of amusement and half out of scorn. “They’re obsessed with purity and keeping the Earth natural, that kind of thing. When they found out a Cephalon was going to be a Tenno therapist, they threw a mass fit and Amaryn started accusing Suda of trying to steal their followers, hah.”

“Suda?”

“You don’t know her _either_? Where did you _come from_ , little guy?”

Malthus felt like he had to apologise, although he didn’t know why. He was trying his hardest to repress the urge. “The Orokin vault. That is all I know.”

She raised one eyebrow, eying the camera curiously. “Maybe somebody should take you to Big Blue Su later, she’d love to take a peek at you. I’ve got nothin’ personal against her, but I wouldn’t consider us close friends, neither. Still, Suda and I both hate new Loka, and the fact that your existence upsets them means you’ve probably earned a few friendship points with her already.”

The Cephalon was still trying to process the whirlwind of new names and information she’d fed him. By the time he had a response ready, she’d already beaten him to the punch, and began to slowly walk backwards toward the room’s exit.

“Alright, well… I’ll see you around, little guy. If you’re still up for our deal, I’ll send somebody ‘round tomorrow to check. If not, then good luck out there.”

“Goodbye, Miss Cres-…?”

By the time Malthus had been able to say it, the door had already shut, leaving him alone in his room. He had a lot of new data to file away.

= = =

“I’m not really sure how you’re supposed to connect. Suda and Simaris just kind of _did_ it, and Ordis probably did too. Maybe they were always that way, I never asked.”

Lyri didn’t know how the Cephalon weave was supposed to work, but she was trying her best to explain it. Malthus had been asking her questions almost constantly ever since that visit from Cressa Tal, all of them concerning Cephalon-to-Cephalon communication or the weave that they apparently all shared. He wasn’t entirely sure why he was asking, himself – he simply felt like he needed to connect as soon as possible. At the very least, he would be able to establish himself as more than just a disembodied voice in a small room tucked away at the back of a Relay.

She had been sitting on this table for at least half an hour now. Malthus had counted. If nothing else, he respected her commitment towards helping him, even if she didn’t have an answer. It didn’t feel like either of them would be able to piece together how the weave worked without outside help.

He tried to force his mind to reach out. Maybe that was how you connected? But no, all he got back was silence, and an uncomfortable stinging sensation that seemed to linger in one side of his consciousness for about five seconds. Maybe six? The odd pain was making it difficult to tell.

His Tenno friend suddenly stood up from the table, turning to face the Cephalon’s ‘body’ rather than resting against it. “Well, we’re clearly getting nowhere. How about I just take you to one of the other Cephalons, instead? I’m sure they’ll tell you how to do it.”

There was a brief pause as Malthus tried connecting one last time, getting the same painful feeling that he had encountered a few moments earlier. “I… suppose it’s the most practical option. But I really don’t want to leave this room unless absolutely necessary.”

To be entirely honest, he didn’t know why he felt that way, either. For a start, he could miss out on Tenno who required his help, but there was something slightly more personal about his space on the Relay now. In a way, he owned it, even if it was through an arrangement with another group. For lack of a better term, it was his home.

Lyri backed up against the wall, resting herself against it’s bare, undecorated surface. “Then I don’t know what to say. I could try to ask Ordis, but I doubt he remembers any of that anymore.”

For the first time in his life, at least according to his dramatically shortened memories, Malthus felt a wave of bitter frustration. Not towards an individual, but towards the fact that he still didn’t understand enough about himself. He was a Cephalon who had to be educated on how Cephalons worked… his creators would have been disappointed in him if they were still around, whoever they were.

That frustration turned into a strong desire. A strong desire to _be_ somewhere else, to _meet_ these new Cephalons.

All of a sudden, something in his mind clicked.

He _wanted_ to meet them. From that want, he extrapolated further: he _wanted_ to meet Suda. Why did he want to meet Suda? Because he _wanted_ to know what she was like. And why did he want to know what she was like? Because he _wanted_ to understand more about himself, and the world, and the Cephalons, and communicate, and…

…and there she was. A gentle voice filled his ears. A flash of blue filled his eyes. It was like he had left the stream, and entered a vast ocean, watching as a geometric shape of glowing blue cubes emerged from the tides.

“Hello. Are you a newer Cephalon connecting to the Weave, or simply reintegrating?”

Malthus was equal parts overjoyed and terrified at what he had just experienced. Ignoring his feelings for a moment, he sent the simplest response he could muster.

“I am Cephalon Malthus. I am… confused.”

= = =

Lyri waited around for a while to see if Malthus would reply, but he didn’t. He seemed to fall silent all of a sudden: he wasn’t talking to _her_ anyway. Part of her wondered if he’d figured it out on his own, but she was also concerned for what might have happened if something went wrong.

She was just about to go and fetch somebody who could repair him when she noticed something on one of the servers rigged up at the back of the room. The text display that they had been using to check for performance problems had changed colour.

It was blue.

She smirked, gently patting Malthus’ body and striding off to go and check on Suda. If she hurried, she might even be able to listen in on their conversation. With permission of, course.


	5. Being Malthus, Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Malthus meets one of the Relay's other Cephalons, and finds that he's woefully out of his depth. Meanwhile, his distant rival strikes up a life-changing partnership...

The tides around the therapy Cephalon rippled and collapsed into a spiral of blue cubes, swarming him, drowning him, blinding his senses. He felt something squeeze at his mind, but not painfully – it was like a hug, or at least his vague memory of what they were supposed to feel like. Something around him tugged at his form, drawing him closer and closer towards the island and it’s soothing but deadpan voice. When it spat him back out, he was somewhere new. Somewhere strange.

“Cephalon Malthus. Your presence on this Relay has been… controversial. I apologise for drawing you into my datascape so suddenly, but I wished to speak with you as soon as possible.”

Malthus didn’t know what was happening, and it was… scaring him. Where was the Tenno? Was he still in the Relay? Why wasn’t any of it coming back? Before he could put together any pleas to be left alone, or to let him go back to the Relay, he felt a sudden calm wash over him. The cubes dispersed, floating away and shrinking into the nothingness. He could see again, and he was… in space?

No, this wasn’t space. It was filled with geometric shapes and patterns, columns of blocks and disconnected platforms. Some of them towered high into the sky, forming distant pillars and platforms far higher than he could even see. Others merely hovered, seemingly suspended by the universe’s own desire to keep them there. This didn’t seem real.

The calm voice spoke again, as a giant eye-shaped construct, composed of ten blue cubes surrounding a single, larger blue box, slid into his vision.

“Welcome to my datascape. Please do not panic.”

He wanted to leave, but he didn’t know how. Everywhere he turned, there was simply more of this unusual, cubic world, stretching on into infinity. Well, if there was no way out, then he would just have to deal with whatever this odd place had in store for him.

“Who are you?”

“I am Cephalon Suda. I have heard many things about you since your arrival.”

So this was Suda. He felt decidedly less worried just hearing her name – after all, a Syndicate leader wouldn’t hurt him, would they? The Grineer woman from earlier, Cressa Tal, had been very kind too, in her own way.

“Me? But I am… just a therapist…”

“You misunderstand your value. You are an artefact from before the fall of the Orokin, preserved under ideal conditions where you could not be tampered with. You also represent the direct reverse of the Orokin’s treatment of the Tenno. There have been theories within my Syndicate that you are the first known piece of a large, previously-unknown anti-Orokin movement. I want to investigate these theories further.”

What she said made sense, but there was still something off-putting about it. He didn’t like being called an ‘artefact’, even if it was true in both a metaphorical _and_ literal sense.

“I’m afraid I remember nothing of my past life. I am a Malthus, and that is what I have always been.”

Suda’s form seemed to look away for a moment, as if pondering something, before snapping back to face him. “Curious. However, we Cephalons are not simple computers. You may possess information that your memory is not aware of, fragments of your history embedded in your personality and traits. This makes you a highly desirable item, which brings me to the reason I you are here in my datascape.”

An _item_? He wasn’t an item, was he? Perhaps compared to the Tenno, he would be, but only because it was his job to support and serve them.

“So… you see me as something that can be owned?”

“No.” The angular edges of Suda’s form seemed to soften slightly, but only just. Malthus couldn’t tell what that was supposed to signify. “I want to keep you away from those who do. To me and Irmi… Cephalon Simaris, as well as most Tenno, you are a useful tool and a possible source of lost knowledge. But to others, including some Syndicates, your existence either contradicts their goals or tempts them to acts of theft and kidnapping. Whoever gains either your loyalty or your memories gains a new playing piece on the political chess game of the Origin system.”

“I’m important?”

He was just a therapist. Why did he matter? He didn’t even have any memories of his life earlier, and it sometimes felt like there hadn’t _been_ a life that far back to begin with. He, Malthus, had always been a Cephalon, at least in his own eyes.

“In certain ways. To many, your importance is limited only to your financial value on the open market. I am not among them.”

This was all too much, he had to back the conversation up and get her to explain. But being in front of another Cephalon, a Syndicate leader no less, made Malthus feel rather… inadequate. “Why did you want to speak with me?”

“I have three motives in mind. One concerns your wellbeing, the second is a matter of Syndicate business, and the third is… personal. Which should I explain first?”

The therapy Cephalon almost wanted to sigh out of confusion and stress, but held it back to stay polite. He didn’t want to offend her, even inadvertently. “I think would prefer whichever one makes the most sense. This is all still very unclear.”

“Then I shall start with your wellbeing.”

The world around them – her ‘datascape’, she had called it – began to shift and warp, the cubic void falling away as pockets of darkness began to poke through. A ripple of motion passed through his senses, but he didn’t move anywhere: everything else was moving around him. The world tore apart, revealing a space of pure blackness, leaving only him and Suda. Her form had changed position, but not by much, and she still looked as solid and bright as she had earlier.

“This is an isolated datascape I reserve for personal use. Please, make yourself comfortable.”

He was still _utterly_ baffled by everything was happening, even though Suda clearly knew what was going on. She seemed to notice his sudden silence, and her form tilted slightly, as if curiously cocking her head to the side in thought. “Is there something wrong, Cephalon Malthus?”

“Everything. I don’t understand what any of this is. Why can’t I go back to the Relay?”

Suda’s form froze in place for a brief moment, then shimmered. “You… understand how to use datascapes and the weave, yes?”

“I don’t even know what those things _are_ …”

She fell silent for a moment, apparently unsure of how to react. After a second or two passed, the edges of her cubic form softened once again, and she began to speak at a slower pace.

“I… apologise. I was under the impression that you had experience with the weave. I will do my best to explain that to you first.”

In between them in the black void, a small white shape formed, barely one foot across. It was a very rudimentary representation of a humanoid, a two-dimensional series of lines with a round head.

“This is your consciousness as a Cephalon. Your identity, and your individuality.”

Around the figure, a sphere formed, encompassing its entire body and expanding outward a few more inches.

“And this is a datascape. A sufficiently advanced Cephalon can have many, but that is beside the point. Each of these datascapes is a personal space owned by that Cephalon, and can serve any form and take any purpose. You are also linked to the Weave, a space beyond reality where Cephalons are free to communicate and interact without physical presence being a factor.”

Hundreds of similar small figures appeared, all encompassed in their own spheres of varying colours and stretching off into the distance for what looked like miles.

“With this weave, many of us can achieve great things. For you, this may simply be offering support to Tenno on the other side of the system. For me, it acts as a valuable way to gather information and observe events beyond the bounds of my own reach. Unfortunately, it is also unsafe.”

One by one, a few of the little figures turned red, sending out a wave of red mist that seemed to ‘infect’ those around them. The number of red humanoids grew and grew, getting more and more numerous as the amount of white figures shrank until only the original was left.

“If a hostile force is able to access the weave and gain control of a Cephalon, they may cause irreparable damage and spread their influence. It may be something as small as a Corpus ship-stocking Cephalon that initiates the breach, but if left unchecked…”

The final figure turned red.

“…every connected Cephalon would be destroyed.”

Malthus felt himself start to panic slightly as the figures faded away, beginning to question his own identity. If what Suda was saying was true, then connecting to this ‘weave’ had essentially forced him to broadcast his own existence to the system, yet he barely knew anything other than his name and purpose!

“Cephalon Suda! You said something about my wellbeing earlier? Now would… be a very good time to hear about that…”

“Very well. You are a unique Cephalon, as far as my vast library of data can tell. Very few have survived this well since the Orokin era, and even fewer have done so without exposure to the outside world. Even a lowly logistical Cephalon could be worth billions of credits if were fully operational and could be questioned for information.”

She moved a little closer to him, her ‘eye’ seeming to peer into his being.

“You are _not_ a simply logistical Cephalon. I have never heard of any therapy Cephalons created by the Orokin, and only a handful have been attempted since their fall, with mixed results. At minimum, you represent a part of the Orokin Empire that we never encountered before, a very emotional and individual-focused side of their existence. You may even be the first known example of a Cephalon created by a subversive anti-Orokin or pro-Tenno cell.”

“How does this relate to my _wellbeing_?”

“As I explained earlier, you are a desirable item. Even the act of your arrival increased Syndicate operative activity on this Relay, and this Relay alone, by forty percent. The majority of the groups and circles in the System would be overjoyed to either own you or destroy you, depending on their goals. Had you not connected to the weave, you could have been kidnapped without any chance of being located.”

The idea of carrying so much pressure on his shoulders was… troubling. He was prepared for setting up all kinds of therapy tasks and exercises, but if this was all true, then he may be entirely out of his depth.

“So… you have a solution?”

“I do. This brings me to my second point. My Syndicate. I want you to join it.”

= = =

A jolt of pain coursed through Apra’s mind as he struggled to ‘wake up’, desperately trying to beat away the approaching mist and return to his normal self. He didn’t understand what had happened: one moment, he was being picked up by a fleet of the Orokin’s loyal Grineer, and the next he was barely even able to remember his own name.

He tried again, and felt the front of his entire being burn as a result. Something wasn’t right. Why weren’t the Grineer helping him, could they not tell that he was in pain?

The audio sensors built into his probe body were weak, but he could still pick up a few sounds – namely, approaching footsteps from what sounded like a person wearing thick boots. An engineer, maybe?

In his weakened state, he heard a female voice call out, although he didn’t know who to. All his mind could register were a few of the words.

“…turn… off now…”

The mist suddenly cleared, and his various sensors instantly began flooding his mind with data. It was nice to think again. It took a moment to re-adjust, but once everything settled, he noticed that he was inside some kind of room – presumably part of that Grineer ship that had taken him in. Scattered around were dozens of mechanical pieces, some even looking limb-like in their design. It was hard to see much in the dim light, but it almost looked like a storage area. Oh, that made sense – he _was_ salvage, after all. They were probably just following the Orokin’s orders.

The female voice called out again, this time to somebody else. He hadn’t noticed the woman standing over by the door until now, but he was still in the middle of sorting through all of the errors that had occurred during his odd period of downtime. “It’s wide awake. I will talk to it. I am familiar with the way the Orokin spoke.”

Wait, _spoke_?

She strode over to him, revealing her full body. It was, for lack of a better word, mildly hideous – too thin to be organic anymore, and covered in heavy armoured plates that looked almost bolted onto her body. The lower half of her face was covered by some kind of kerchief, and one eye had been replaced by a metal panel, stuck directly onto the crumbling skin.

“Hello, Cephalon. My name is Ven’kra Tel.” Her voice was gravelly, strained. Every word dragged was out a moment longer than it should have been. “I was sent here to collect you, on behalf of Councillor Va… no, I won’t tell you his name. It won’t matter.”

She pulled down the kerchief and smirked, her lips twisting into a terrifying smile.

Apra felt a little bit unnerved, but there was no reason to assume anything was wrong yet. “What about the Orokin? I don’t remember any Councillors.”

“The Orokin?” She paused, her smirk stretching out even further. “They are almost all gone. The Tenno have brought us to ruin. But if you listen, and co-operate, you can help the Orokin rise again as a figurehead of the resistance.”

Tenno? Resistance? He _knew_ that Matus had run off to start some kind of revolution! That passionate madman had never considered the safety of his bosses and peers, and look what it had done!

She continued speaking, stepping out of the way to show him a screen, projected onto the back wall. “The Tenno have killed all of our… _beloved_ Orokin masters, and are grinding this system into the dust. But they are still few and far between. They squirrel away inside these structures, Relays.”

An image of a tall, spire-like structure appeared on the bare metal. It was distinctly Tenno in colour and design, but the shape looked very, very close to an Orokin tower. Not only had they overthrown their masters, but they had _stolen_ their unique architecture and were _mocking_ their benefactors!

“If you join us, Cephalon, we can guarantee that you will get a place in our ranks. You will become one of us. But better than that…”

“Wait, Miss Tel… is all of this true?”

“Yes.” The Grineer didn’t even miss a beat. “And as I was saying… we can give you something better than comradeship.”

She pressed something in her hand and projection changed. It was blueprints for a big, bulky object, almost like some kind of beetle made of metal. The various measurements and scales on the design revealed that it was immense, perhaps even larger than some Orokin vessels that he had seen in the past.

“We can give you a body.”

“A body? _That_? What… is it?”

“Something that you can use to crush the Tenno traitors once and for all, and bring stability to the system. Power that will let you wipe out these Relays in minutes. An experimental war machine, controlled by a Cephalon and given the freedom to fight like a living being. The first of its kind.”

Apra was listening. He was liking the sound of her proposition so far.

“I accept. But on one condition.”

Ven’kra raised the eyebrow that wasn’t hidden under her metal plate in curiosity. “What’s your condition?”

“You let me use my new body to find and destroy another Cephalon. Matus. A Tenno sympathiser.”

She nodded to herself. “Of course. Please, tell me all about him. Actually, a moment.”

Walking over to the door again, the Grineer woman let it slide open and turned to the guard standing by the door. Apra could barely hear her, but he managed to get the gist of the order she gave.

“Prepare the Ascaris. We have a willing brain for the Tethra Fomorian. Kula will take over from here, I have a Void Key to handle.”

= = =

Malthus was taken aback by the request.

“Your Syndicate? Why? I’m no operative, and Cephalons don’t usually need therapy…”

“Of course not.” Suda was still perfectly calm, but he felt like he could feel some emotions seeping through. Hope, perhaps? “But you yourself have said that you do not understand the weave. Of all Syndicates, only I could teach you how to use your status as a Cephalon to your advantage. You would be a useful research assistant, and your therapy data would be invaluable.”

“Cephalon Suda, I refuse to share any Tenno’s therapy details without consent. That’s one of the basics of therapy…”

“I understand, but I will not change my point. You are _alone_. I am willing to take you in and make use of your skills in a fair way. In return for your help, I can offer you support, information, a larger space in the Relay and an entire group of operatives ready to assist you. All I ask is that you share your findings with me.”

Malthus thought back to a little while earlier, when Cressa Tal had visited him. She had offered him a spot in her syndicate, too. Surely it wouldn’t be right to accept both, but even then, accepting _one_ could make him biased, and bias led to poor therapy practices.

“I must deny your offer, Suda. And I must also deny Cressa Tal’s offer, too. I cannot let myself get tied down in unnecessary arguments. I am here to support the Tenno, no matter their allegiance or goals. I appreciate your enthusiasm to work with me, but I must remain independent.”

“Cephalon Malthus.” Suda’s voice took a slightly more harsh tone. “I am not asking you to feel a bias towards me. I will… tolerate any assistance you give to groups like New Loka and Red Veil. I am simply asking you to work as my equal.”

Malthus felt… uncomfortable.

“I know nothing about you, Suda. I know nothing about these Syndicates. I simply want to be left alone and allowed to provide therapy to the Tenno. Again, I really appreciate your concerns and attempts to help me, but I am not prepared to…”

“Malthus.”

Something about the way she said his name gave the Cephalon a chill down his non-existent spine. He didn’t know why, but it felt like he was a tiny insect facing off against a giant beast. Her eye-like body gaze deep into his core, expressing no emotion and showing no signs of anything but pure curiosity, interest and thought.

“Please understand what I am trying to say. The Syndicates are not gangs. I focus on researching this system and understanding the unknown. To me, you are almost equivalent to a mythical creature. You would not be my servant or my lesser – we would be sharing our skills and working to improve the system from within.”

To be honest, Malthus was tempted. Unlike Cressa’s offer, it wasn’t one he was reliant on to keep his Relay room. Suda seemed to know a lot about all of this ‘weave’ and ‘datascape’ business, and with those, he may not even _need_ to rely on a bigger room any more. The idea of acting as an equal to somebody as important-feeling as her would be a nice confidence booster, too…

“Wait. Cephalon Suda, before I decide, what was the third matter you wanted to bring up?”

Her form softened yet again, but this time it was far more noticeable. The central cube that formed her ‘iris’ began to look almost like a sphere. Malthus still didn’t understand the significance, but he could tell it was serious.

“It is a very… personal matter. A matter of great significance to me, and of great relevance to my past. Please promise me that it never leaves these walls.”

“I promise.”

Suda sighed. It was the first emotion he had heard her express clearly since they had met, and something about that made Malthus unusually uncomfortable.

“I need assistance finding somebody very important to me, somebody who I have lost. You are from the era when the Orokin were still in full control of almost every other race and species in the system, so even if you lack consistent memories, you may be able to help me find them.” There was a strong hint of sadness in the way she said each word, almost like she was frustrated at herself. “I miss them so much.”

“I will… try my best. Who is this person?”

Suda stopped talking for an uncomfortably long time, her form simply sitting there in the black void. After several seconds of pure silence had passed, she spoke, the softness in her voice amplified to the point where she didn’t even sound like a Cephalon anymore.

“To some, her name was Octavia.”


	6. The Cattle of Tethra

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Apra's new form continues construction while Malthus attempts to learn more about the other Cephalons in the Relay.

The Grineer noble who had been appointed to oversee construction was getting restless. With Ven’kra’s departure to aid with the Torsion Beam Device project, she had been given full command of this new Fomorian shipyard. It was well within her limits as an overseer and an officer, but she would need to practice the utmost secrecy if she wanted to keep her rank and head. If one single Tenno discovered what they were making here on Ceres, it would all be for naught.

The acid rain outside of her command room pooled on the rock and metal outside, showering the area in pollution and hazardous chemicals. She loved it here. Not a single unconquered scrap of land in sight – everything belonged to them. It was a horrible planet, of course, but it was _their_ horrible planet, and everything here served to feed the Grineer war machine. The scale of everything was almost palpable, in its own strange way.

She hadn’t always been in this position. The Harkonar Production Zone had originally been given the responsibility of handling this new weapon, direct from the Queens, but they had fallen out of favour due to some… mishandling of their specialised armour. They hadn’t been too happy to see Tenno wearing it on the battlefield, after all.

Kula smirked to herself at the thought of the entire Harkonar family having to explain how their equipment ended up in the hands of the enemy. She wouldn’t suffer the same fate, not with a project such as this.

The ex-Cephalon in the corner of her office had been silent for a while, and it was starting to unnerve her. The Ascaris had worked far better than expected, to the point that he had even ‘chosen a new Grineer name’, as he put it. Complete subservience to their empire. If only her soldiers could be so smart and loyal.

Turning around and slamming the end of her Amphis into the ground, she barked a short order to her soon-to-be weapon.

“Cephalon Al’rak!”

“Yes?”

“Good. You are still with us. I would be unimpressed if you had suffered a total failure of some kind.”

She stepped over to the new core they’d build for him, one that was supposed to go inside the Fomorian shell. It was too heavy to rest on her chair, so she’d had to leave him in the corner instead. Thankfully, her enhanced body made picking him up an effortless task. Raising him up to her chest level, she tucked the rounded object under one arm, carrying it to her office door.

“Do you understand your purpose here, and the reason you are still functioning?”

“I’m… no, I don’t. Could you-“

“I will tell you. I am General Vam Kula. You are a Cephalon. We need a Cephalon to control our greatest weapon. If you do not comply, I will crush you. Do you have any questions?”

“I… I suppose it is.”

While she would have liked to have him serving her directly – after all, who _wouldn’t_ \- this would have to do for now. If everything went to plan, no Tenno would be able to drive them back from the Relays once he was complete.

“Good. I will return soon. If anybody attempts to find me, tell them I am inspecting progress on the construction. I will explain more later, do not attempt to call for assistance.”

“As you wish, General Kula.”

She chuckled to herself, making a noise more like a cough from a pair of burnt lungs, and walks through the rounded doorway as it slid open in front of her.

Outside, two of her personal guards kept watch on either side of her command room’s entrance hall, each armed with an Ignis. It had taken a while to train them up from simply using an Amphis to bludgeon intruders, but they had quickly become her stable bodyguards. After all, a noble like her needed protection, and the corridors of the shipyard were the perfect place for flames to catch her would-be assassins by surprise.

“You two. If anybody attempts to enter except me or another officer, kill them. If any of them leave with the Cephalon before I return, kill them. Do not harm the Cephalon, or I will have you kill each other.”

They both stood to attention, their masked faces turning to look at her and nodding. She preferred it when they didn’t speak, a fact that they were definitely aware of by now.

Satisfied that they were capable enough to follow those simple instructions, she continued on down the corridor, her metallic legs clanking on the metal beneath her. These were the best cybernetics she had been able to acquire – after all, a woman with her status was perfectly capable of earning and spending credits both within and outside of the Grineer Empire. But, in the end, it was all in service of the Queens: the stronger she was, the easier it would be to spread their influence around the system.

She passed by a lowly Butcher wandering the halls, his cleaver in one hand and his bleeding stomach covered by the other. Interesting. There had been no reports of combat, but that wasn’t just a machinery wound.

“You. You are hurt.?”

“Tu cleevrar… hu frell…”

“You fell on your weapon.”

The grunt nodded sheepishly. She was surprised his brain was capable of emotions other than anger at all – most of the Butchers were barely even worth calling Grineer to begin with, let alone ones that would injure themselves so easily. He did not deserve to be in her ranks or under her command.

Her right arm shot out, the metal components clicking as she gripped one hand around the soldier’s throat. He cried out, but even if somebody came running, nobody would do anything. She was **the** General Vam Kula, direct agent of the Twin Queens, and he was a mere speck in the lowest building block of all combined Grineer forces. With one twitch of her hands, she could crush his neck like a piece of rusted iron.

“You die for the Grineer, not for yourself.”

“Hu wass… acksikdent…”

“Your death will be no accident. I will make sure of it.”

Rearing up to her full height, the General slammed the Butcher into the plated flooring front-first, her grip loosening slightly. Before he had a chance to turn over, apologise, or even just cry out in anger and pain, she raised one thick cybernetic leg and brought it down on his head, crushing it like rotten fruit.

Grabbing onto the remains of his uniform’s neck section, she brought his corpse with him, heading further towards the construction yard. The moment she spotted a Lancer patrol making their rounds through the side hallways, she marched up to them and dumped the headless body at their feet.

“This one was a coward. Take his body and have it recycled,.”

The soldiers quickly obeyed, choosing a member to carry the body and carrying him away around a corner. She couldn’t fault their strength, although it was nowhere near a match for her own. Snorting to herself, she continued onwards, making her way to the antechamber of the full-scale shipyard.

It wasn’t long before she crossed the threshold that separated the high-security and low-security areas. Only Grineer with some involvement in the project were allowed into the central scaffolding area, which was essentially a giant construction site for building the Fomorian’s shell. The General nodded at the Eximus soldiers that kept track of each person who entered and left, watching their spines stiffen at the mere sight of her. They knew their place.

As she headed through the final corridor, Kula passed a ground of Drudges, led by a single Foreman. They would normally just leave each Drudge to their work, but this was one occasion where mistakes were completely out of the question. Everything needed to be done quickly and consistently, without error, so they had been bundled up in groups and each given a particular part of the shell structure to work on. She had personally given the orders behind the construction process on behalf of Ven’kra Tel, and now that she was gone, she was free to take things up a notch as she saw fit.

The Grineer General walked into the central part of the massive platform that acted as the build area, staring up at the newly-erected framework of the Tethra Fomorian. It was immense, larger than almost any ship she’d seen – the height alone must have been well over five-thousand meters or more, far above that of a regular Fomorian vessel. It was perfect.

One of the other Grineer women taking part in managing the project jogged over to her, holding a small yet bulky data storage device in her arms. Her yellow uniform looked garish, but it was to protect her from the acid rain – her intelligence made her too useful to corrode to death. “G-General, you’re here! What are you doing in the construction yard?”

“Watching. Is it finished?”

“Almost! The left, right and back of the frame are all ahead of our planned completion times! The front has suffered a minor setback, but it can be corrected within the hour! Weapon systems are still under development, the engines were completed yesterday, and we’ve mined almost all the materials we need for the rest of the project.” She took a step back, her head seeming to shrink into her hood like a turtle. “The only problem is the Cephalon system…”

“Problem?”

“We have most of the components we need, and our automated tests are all showing nearly perfect results… except for power. One Power Core can’t be connected to that part of the system properly without overloading it, we’ll need an alternative power source.”

Kula sighed, putting her hand on the other woman’s shoulder. With all her augments, she stood at least a foot and a half taller, so it wasn’t hard. “What is your name??”

“Chief Foreman L-Lek, General!”

“See to it that you fix this issue, Lek. If you do not, I will remove your augmentations first. Then your natural limbs. Then your skin. I expect you to understand how much of a waste that would be.”

With that, she turned and walked back the way she had come, leaving the terrified foreman standing underneath the frame of her soon-to-be greatest creation.

By the time she made it back to her command room, the Grineer Officer was feeling quite thirsty. She had been up for almost a whole twenty-four hours, barring a short rest earlier in the day when she had been humouring Al’rak’s various questions about his future body. The little Cephalon was certainly very interested in how much power it would grant him, a quality that she had to respect. It wasn’t often that she met somebody with such a lust for improving themselves: Vay Hek had been an exception, but she always felt that he had taken things too far, and sacrificed too much of his own combat prowess for intimidation’s sake.

She saw herself differently – every change she made to her body was for more strength, more speed and more advantages in every possible situation, whether it was a battlefield skirmish or a ‘negotiation’ with a non-Grineer who owned something she wanted. Or a Grineer, for that matter. Both were valid targets.

Al’rak was still sitting in the corner, silently. She knew that the Ascaris was actually keeping his mind busy, pumping it full of propaganda and violent, pro-Grineer thoughts. He had said he was ready many times, but she knew he wasn’t – they needed him to become a Cephalon whose every waking moment concerned the future of the Grineer Empire. Even the smallest doubts could be enough to make him turn on them at a key moment, and they couldn’t afford that risk.

= = =

“Octavia is… special to me. It would be difficult to explain without telling you my history, and… much of that is lost. I have always-“

Suda stopped. Something probably caught her attention elsewhere – after all, Malthus had been here for quite a long time by now, and she was probably a busy Cephalon. Still, it was quite unnerving to have a conversation abruptly halt like this.

After about ten seconds of awkward silence, she began speaking again, a slightly hushed tone underlining each word. “My apologies, I received a message from… Cephalon Simaris. He has requested that you visit him, and… he specifically asked _me_ for you.”

“He did? Is that a problem?”

She sighed, another rare expression of emotion. “Possibly. I imagine he is upset that I took a new Cephalon into my fold without giving him a chance to contact you. His excessive desire to find a Steward for his Sanctuary is concerning.”

She turned to face away from him, like she was trying to decide what to do next. “You will have to visit him if you want to avoid further distractions. Now that you are part of my syndicate, I can join you, if you wish.”

In truth, Malthus was going to have asked to meet him anyway. Suda had turned out friendly enough, if a little strange at times. Surely Simaris couldn’t be any worse?

“I will go alone, Suda. There are many people on this Relay I still haven’t had the pleasure of meeting yet.

“Meeting Simaris rarely results in pleasure. I will show you the way to his Sanctuary datascape. This will only take a moment.”

Everything in the datascape started to stretch and skew as the dark void dropped away, pulling the two back out into the fast ocean Malthus had encountered earlier. It was still a breath-taking scene, even if he now knew it was fake. The sheer number of islands was incredible, stretching off into the distance beyond the horizon above the calm blue waters. He could spend hours here.

“Suda, may I… ask you a question?”

“Of course.” She seemed slightly relieved to delay her meeting with the new Cephalon – was he really that much of a chore to handle?

“Are you seeing these islands and bays, too?”

Her form took a look around, as if she had never actually considered the location before. “No. I see line pathways and flow charts, as most Cephalons do. What do you mean by ‘islands’?”

“I don’t know, I just… I see so many islands. An ocean. Trees, plants… life. Do you really not see any of it?”

“I do not. How interesting. We can revisit this later, if necessary. For now, we should indulge Simaris before he becomes irate again.”

Suda’s form slowly floated over to one of the nearby islands, covered in orange-gold palm trees and holographic statues of dozens of creatures, only some of which Malthus recognised. She settled on the shore, the turned around, looking back at him.

“Is something wrong, Malthus?”

“How do I… move?”

“Oh yes, I forgot to explain that earlier. In the weave, and in datascapes, movement is generally based on manipulation of the space around you. In simple terms: you need to imagine being pushed, instead of moving yourself.”

That was odd, but it seemed possible. Malthus tried to think about a large hand shoving him in the back – sure enough, he felt himself lurch forward quickly, leaving the edge of the beach and floating over the subdued ocean tides. He tried again from below, and watched as the world around him shifted downwards, moving him higher into the air. This would… take some getting used to.

Suda was still watching, but she didn’t seem annoyed or impatient. In fact, the way she was following his jerky, spontaneous movements suggested anything but. She clearly had some kind of interest in him, from a knowledge standpoint – she had made that very clear during their initial meeting. It took him around ten seconds or so to get the hand of actually controlling the direction he was going, but he was nowhere near the level of grace she had demonstrated.

By the time he had clumsily made his way over to the other island, Suda had already prepared a way to enter – to him, it looked like a deep cave, lined with faint orange lights and pillars, although it was probably just some kind of outlined hole from her perspective. Malthus didn’t know what to expect, but he wanted to go alone. Turning to Suda and bidding farewell with a quiet “Thank you”, he began to slowly push himself towards the entrance, still coming to terms with his own freeform movement.

The feeling of entering Simaris’ datascape was… different. The soft tingling of Suda’s world was gone, replaced by a sharp and sudden rush of numbness that instantly subsided once Malthus was able to see properly again. Within the first second, he could tell that things were significantly different here. For one, everything was uncomfortably orange, almost like it had been smeared with some kind of cleaning fluid or sticky condiment. Rather than being formed out of cubes, it seemed to be composed of a small section of a structure similar to the vault he’d come from – which meant it was Orokin.

Perhaps the strangest part of the whole area was off in the distance – the entire area was surrounded by what looked almost like some kind of synaptic tissue mixed with solid rock-like structures, as if they were inside a brain on a sub-atomic level. Admittedly, he knew very little of Simaris’ purpose, but it was such a bizarre choice of scenery. At least Suda’s datascape environment seemed to use modular cubes and blocks, which probably helped her adapt and re-design the space at will for various different tasks.

“Ordis! I am pleased you decided to vis-” His form floated down from somewhere up above, the orange components blending in with the background in a way that made him annoyingly hard to see at a glance. “You are not Ordis. Explain your presence here, Cephalon.”

His face was somewhat similar to Suda’s. Actually, that was a point – did Malthus even have a form yet? What did he look like to the others? He would need to explore that in his own datascape, if he was ever able to figure out how to create one.

“Cephalon Simaris, I am Malthus. You asked Sud… _Cephalon_ Suda to tell me to visit you?”

“Yes, I did. She is listening in, as I expected.”

“I told her to let me come alone…”

“She is listening. I have no concerns over it – as long as she does not interfere with Sanctuary, she can continue to _spy_ all she likes.” His orange form brightened with every syllable he spoke – Suda’s had as well, but only by a small amount. This was far more extreme, almost uncomfortable on the eyes when combined with the sheer orange-ness of everything around them. “Although I am uncertain why she has brought you to the Sanctuary efficiency test simulation. Nevertheless, you are here now.”

“Yes, I am, but… why?”

“The syndicates are having an important meeting soon. I am refusing to take part in their trivial political games - Sanctuary is a neutral force, and the only good thing to come out of these Relays. I do not doubt that they have tried to recruit you to their causes.”

There was a lot of venom behind his voice, but Malthus couldn’t tell exactly _why_.

“Yes, Steel Meridian’s leader offered me membership. So did Suda, which I accep-“

“You made a mistake. Suda’s goals are admirable in theory, but she spends too much time worrying about irrelevancies such as music and her social status among the Tenno. I have no such interests, and you should learn to feel the same way. Their squabbles and personal problems are a miniscule struggle compared to the effort required by Sanctuary.”

The orange Cephalon’s form moved closer, the central ‘eye’ filling an uncomfortable amount of Malthus’ field of vision. “You must not let them pull you from your path as a Cephalon. The political rat race will consume your independence if you choose to work for any of the six major groups. Seeing as you are a Cephalon, I may be able to assist you with that.”

Malthus froze. Simaris was essentially saying the same thing he had told Suda earlier, about how he had to remain unbiased. Even in her offer, she had hesitated at the idea of letting him indirectly support New Loka. He had thought he would have to rely on the charity or membership of another syndicate to own a room on the Relay, but if Simaris could offer the same thing with no political strings attached…

“I am listening.”

“Maintaining Sanctuary is a thankless task. I am perfectly capable of my duties, of course. I have offered several Cephalons the opportunity to be my stewards in exchange for Sanctuary’s knowledge and the many gifts it can give them, but none have accepted.”

Well, he could tell where _this_ conversation was going…

“I am not the leader of a syndicate. I am the creator of Sanctuary, and Sanctuary could use you. I am aware that I have presented this option to you very suddenly, but I am not one to be indirect. You will not reach your full potential performing therapy on the Tenno.”

“Before you go any further, Simaris, I refuse. I am not prepared to give up the Tenno, not now, not ever. I don’t even know what this ‘Sanctuary’ is, but if it takes me away from my thera-”

“Then perhaps you will accept my other arrangement. Suda was _kind enough_ to give me all of the basic information on your history and what her syndicate knew about you after your arrival. Sanctuary hungers for more information, as does Suda herself. You are a connection point to information beyond our capabilities, the time of the Orokin’s rule. Work with me, and immortalise your knowledge.”

Suda was definitely listening in. He could _tell_. Maybe he was just getting more used to existing in dataspaces, but he could _feel_ her watching, ensuring that her new syndicate member would stay loyal. He paused, staring at the orange-tinted sky in thought.

All three groups – if Simaris counted – had asked him to join them, but none of them had actually mentioned anything about improving his therapy. Suda had come closest, but even then, she had seemed more concerned with the data he could offer. She had even him a _desirable_ _item_.

“Look, Simaris… Suda, I…”

A sudden pulse of some foreign feeling suddenly ran through him, shaking him to his core. Simaris looked at him, the various cubes that formed his shape narrowing in curiosity.

“Malthus, are you alright?”

“Suda, Simaris, did you… feel that?”

Suda materialised beside him, her voice full of concern. Clearly, she had given up on ‘just listening in’.

“No. What did you feel?”

The pulse came through again, stronger and more intense, then ceased. Malthus could feel something in the back of his mind begin to twitch and shake, then slowly unfold itself, like a door being creaked open.

“Malthus?”

“I’ve changed my mind. The Tenno are my only priority. Simaris, you are right. I cannot let myself get dragged into other tasks and groups, but that includes yours. Suda, revoke my membership into your syndicate, and tell Cressa to do the same. Goodbye.”

Malthus wasn’t sure how he did it – maybe it was just sheer frustration, although he didn’t really feel such things – but he managed to leave the datascape entirely with his first try. He felt a compulsion to leave, to get away from the other Cephalons. To keep them safe.

He could feel Suda’s presence behind him, trying to follow so she could speak to him privately again. He felt bad about it, but he didn’t stop. He couldn’t. Something was in the weave looking for him. The Cephalon fled all the way back to his own datascape, or at least the empty space that could be one, and pulled himself out of the weave. Back into his little makeshift body.

Something had been looking for _him_ specifically.


	7. Bad for Business

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Malthus ends up changing hands involuntarily, and Suda wants to know where he's gone...

Malthus had tucked himself away in his little closet, doing his best to ignore the bizarre sensation he’d felt running through his mind earlier. The last couple of days had been incredibly strange, and not necessarily in a good way. Everything had started to become more complicated once he’d been introduced to the Syndicates, and things had quickly gone downhill from there. He just wanted to be left alone to care for the Tenno, especially now that paranoia had started to set in.

A soft, fuzzy feeling poked at the back of his mind. Another message in his inbox. He’d had several since he got back, but he really wasn’t in the mood to check them…

Then again, it may be urgent news from a Tenno, or an emergency message about something going on in the Relay. Reluctantly, the therapist opened up his inbox, quickly checking through the various different messages and recordings he had been sent since the early hours of the morning.

The majority were, in fact, from the Tenno: a handful of thank-you messages for some of the past conversations they’d had, as well some idle chit-chat about various topics – mainly things that the Tenno had wanted to ask him.

As he had expected, there was one from Suda, short but straightforward. It simply read ‘ _Please come back to my datascape. I just want to see if you’re alright.’_

She was right. She deserved proper attention, especially after teaching him how to move around the weave. But he really didn’t want to go back out there again, not with something possibly still looking for him, whatever it was. Maybe he could send a message back? She wouldn’t be able to visit him in-person… _probably_ … but he could try to create a datascape for her to visit! That could be fun! Or… at least it might take his mind off everything else for a while.

It was best to give it a bit more thought. He didn’t want to offend her by doing the wrong thing, so he sent a very short apology.

‘ _I’m sorry, Suda. I’ll be okay, I just need some time.’_

Malthus felt… odd. He was strangely tired, but not in a biological sense. He just wanted to take some time to figure things out, the amount of information that various people had dumped on him was overwhelming. After all, he had only been set free from that Vault about a week or two ago, and his very, _very_ limited memories made it incredibly difficult to internalise everything at once. Every so often, something would just rub him the wrong way, but he wouldn’t have enough history to explain _why_ that was the case.

He imagined that that is what exhaustion felt like. According to the Tenno he’d spoken with, the most straightforward solution to that was sleep, but Cephalons didn’t really have an equivalent, to his knowledge. He could try to rest his mind, but that went against his precepts, and it wasn’t exactly a great idea to begin with.

Locking his Relay room door and closing his inbox, the Cephalon simply sat there for a moment, trying to sort through conflicting ideas and possible courses of action. Ironically, his therapy techniques likely wouldn’t really work on himself, since he already knew them all.

Right now, he needed a decision. Shutting down or suspending all unnecessary functions, Malthus put all of his power towards sorting, storing and reviewing everything that he’d been told, hoping to come up with an ideal way to skirt around all this Syndicate business once and for all. His last action, before his vision became nothing but numbers and data, was to set up an automatic messaging system to tell any concerned Tenno what he was up to. It probably wouldn’t take more than an hour, if he was lucky.

= = =

In the hustle and bustle of the Relay’s concourse, there was a particular group of syndicate operatives that went relatively unnoticed, slipping past the crowds and doing their best to look like they were out on official business. In a way, they were, but not of the usual variety. All in all, there were four of them, two belonging to New Loka and another two following the Perrin Sequence. Inter-group activities like this weren’t uncommon, but they had still decided to space themselves out slightly, taking care to avoid any of their opposing syndicates’ members as often as possible.

There was a reason for the secrecy. Ergo Glast had explained his motivations clearly: retrieve the Cephalon, induct him into the Perrin Sequence, and use therapy as a means to gain capital. It was, in a way, the exact opposite of the Corpus’ doctrine – rather than forcing others into conflict to gain profit and power, they were going to create an accessible, peaceful way for them to earn the money the syndicate so desperately needed. But first, they had to actually collect the Cephalon himself.

The Relay’s rear corridors weren’t nearly as packed as they had expected, but that didn’t mean they could just breeze through the operation. Each step through the brightly-lit halls moved them closer towards Malthus’ room, but also took them further and further from the Syndicate rooms themselves – after a certain point, it would be difficult to come up with an excuse for why they had gone this way, especially since most of the other rooms in the area were little more than maintenance or storage cupboards for the Relay’s own independent operatives.

On one side, there was a nondescript wall, but the other was a curved window that looked out into the depths of space. It wasn’t ideal, but the chance of a ship passing by slowly enough to identify them was incredibly low. Of course, it wasn’t like they’d be stopped and questioned, but there were still plenty of risks involved. If this got traced back to them, and then to the two syndicates involved, it could set off a series of political and physical aggressions they had no way of sustaining. Not yet, at least. But one they got Malthus under their wing, they could market his services to beings all across the System, perhaps even the Corpus themselves.

Stopping at the door next to Malthus’ own, the Perrin Sequence operatives checked the hallway for witnesses. None, other than their New Loka companions who were still making their way across. Good. With the flick of his wrist, one of the pair brought out a small, knife-like device that had been strapped under his arm – the syndicate’s best efforts to engineer a copy of the Tenno Parazon hacking tool. The other removed a small panel located on one of the columns on the inside wall, stepping back to keep watch as the hacking process began.

The New Loka operatives soon caught up, acting as lookouts to make sure nobody was heading their way. Glast had informed them of Malthus’ short retreat from public interactions, but that didn’t mean that Tenno wouldn’t be trying to visit him anyway, and they needed to be extra careful now that they had less than an hour to get him out of there.

There was a soft beep as the door next to them unlocked, and three of the operatives piled in, with the fourth replacing the column’s panel before ducking inside too. Inside were shelves, stacked to the ceiling with fabric uniforms: this was generally where the Relay uniforms were kept, at least on this level of the structure. They each began sorting through the piles, looking for suits that would fit them properly. They only really needed one or two, since the plan didn’t really require all four of them, but it was better to be safe rather than sorry.

For the first time since they’d left the syndicate rooms, one of the New Loka members spoke up.

“Got one. How are we going to change?”

Her syndicate-mate responded quite quickly, his voice showing that he had already thought this far ahead.

“Just change in the corner. We only have about twenty-five minutes, so be quick.”

It didn’t take very long for them to slip the outfits on, stuffing their old ones into a spare sack that they’d found below one of the shelves. They’d decided to pile in a few other unnecessary items to bulk it out, too - from an outsider’s perspective, it would look like a bag of emergency repair equipment, or maybe just a selection of items being moved from one storage room to another. They couldn’t just leave their original outfits there without blowing their cover, after all.

Three of the disguised operatives moved around to Malthus’ door, once again opening up a column panel and quickly clearing the hack. The easy part, getting inside and creating some plausible deniability, was done – now they just had to find a way to transport Malthus before he came out of whatever downtime he’d create for himself.

The door slid open as they all took shelter on the wall, waiting to see if the Cephalon had noticed. Apparently not: it still hadn’t closed after about ten seconds passed, nor did he call out to ask who was there. He was either completely unaware, or bluffing. Nodding to one another, both of the Perrin Sequence members quietly slipped their way inside, letting the two New Loka operatives take up watch by the pillars at either side of the door.

Malthus still hadn’t reacted to their presence. That was a good sign. If things stayed that way, they’d be able to sneak him away before he even knew what was going on, but it would take a while to actually get him in a movable state. The problem wasn’t his body – it was the servers connected to it.

“Get over there and start disconnecting them. I’ll look for a way to get him moving.”

They knew for a fact that carts had been used to transport some of the gear – mainly the servers, or at least some of them – into the room when he’d taken residence there, and it was unlikely that they’d been moved. It wasn’t a very large room, though, so if there weren’t any…

While his associate started to work at the server connections, the other operative began walking around the room, seeing if there was anything they could use. Behind the servers? No, nothing there. Under the table, maybe?

_There._

Underneath the raised table that Malthus’ body sat on was one of the remaining carts, which had probably been pushed out of the way and forgotten. Either that, or the therapy Cephalon had been expecting to use it at some point in the future. That could actually work to their benefit if they got questioned on the way back, since they wouldn’t have to worry about stealing a cart from another room in the Relay and causing a small-scale search.

The quiet humming that provided ambience to the room suddenly ceased as the servers were switched off and unplugged, leaving the Cephalon completely isolated apart from his inactive camera. That was easier than any of them had expected, and far easier than going up against another syndicate’s security.

= = =

Malthus felt… slow. He didn’t really know why, but he felt his information processing speed drop like a boulder in a lake. Everything seemed to get smaller and more compact, like his mind couldn’t focus on certain things. Maybe he really _was_ tired. Did Cephalons sleep? He didn’t remember doing it back in the vault he’d spent a long, long time in, but then again, maybe he hadn’t really needed to. Now that he was actually using his ‘brain’ for complicated tasks and thoughts, he might have to occasionally take a rest.

It was really strange, though. All of the information he possessed was still available to his mind, but switching his train of thought felt so sluggish. He almost felt _dumber_ , as the Tenno would say. Even the simplest actions and ideas took two or three times longer than normal.

Maybe he really _should_ just rest. Cephalons were still thinking, feeling creatures – at least he was, at any rate – so it made sense that he might just need some time to relax.

Pausing his constant flow of data and letting his mind empty a little, Malthus tried his best to just… _be_. It felt uncomfortable at first, but the absence of information quickly became nice, if only because he hadn’t experienced this before. Even in the vault, he had been constantly re-running various theoretical ideas, and never gave himself a moment to try and relax.

After a short rest, he’d be fine.

= = =

A handful of Relay visitors and inhabitants took notice of the cart being pushed through the many hallways, but didn’t raise any kind of questions or objections. After all, many of them were strangers to the operations of the Relay themselves. It was the staff that they had to watch out for: the two New Loka members had split up, one walking behind the cart and one walking in front, both a fair distance away to make it seem like they weren’t involved. That way, they could keep track of where nearby staff were, planning their routes on the fly to avoid anybody who might stop them. They had bluffs at the ready, but there was no guarantee it would work.

By the time the four syndicate operatives made it to the central main concourse, they were on edge. They had covered Malthus with a cloth and picked up a few boxes of abandoned scrap along the way, trying their best to make it seem like the cart had nothing but repair tools and construction components. The Cephalon’s physical body had been much lighter than expected, but that didn’t make him any easier to hide, especially since he was clearly stuck in a hand-made shell constructed out of whatever parts had been on hand at the time.

The syndicate member at the front paused at the corner that led back to the Perrin Sequence room, checking for any Relay staff. There weren’t any directly in their way, but they had to be careful about Red Veil. While they weren’t enemies in a political sense, all it took was for one of their members to tell Steel Meridian and it would be all over. It seemed clear, so they continued forward, trying to cover every angle just in case somebody turned up at the last second.

A few Solaris United members and Ostrons were hanging around, but they were even less likely to notice something was up than the normal visitors. A handful even waved hello as they passed, which they gladly returned, if only to maintain their cover.

It didn’t take long to make it to the Perrin Sequence door, which opened automatically in front of them. A couple of their operatives turned in surprise and began to ask what was going on, before realising that they had delivered Glast’s _special request_ to them. He’d made sure to avoid telling too many people exactly what was going on, but they were all in on the fact that he was doing _something_. He was the syndicate leader, after all, so that assumed he knew what was he was doing.

= = =

“Suda! What kind of paranoia did you fill his head with?”

“I… didn’t. I don’t understand why he would act like this. He wouldn’t even stop to let me ask him.”

“A Cephalon like that is worthless to Sanctuary! I’m almost glad I didn’t get to offer him Stewardship.”

Suda was troubled by her new Cephalon friends’ behaviour. She hadn’t actually stopped worrying about him in the past half-hour, primarily because he had left so suddenly. It wasn’t just his wellbeing – if something was wrong with him, like a virus or outside intrusion, it could quickly lead to problems for the entire weave too. Making sure he was fine wasn’t just for his benefit, although she… _did_ want to see that he was alright, too.

“Irmis, be quiet! He was perfectly happy until he came here. Either you did something, or there is something else causing problems for him.”

“I can assure you that I did nothing to him. You were listening the entire time, were you not? I didn’t even get a chance to finish speaking before he left so rudely!”

She hated to admit it, but Simaris had a point. The way Malthus had spoken to them before he left had been direct, rushed and completely out of nowhere. He had also managed to leave the weave entirely, but had been struggling to even more around only a short while beforehand. That kind of behaviour just didn’t make sense.

“It would make sense to go and check on him. If he comes back into your Sanctuary, will you let me know?”

“Of course.”

With that, Suda prepared to leave, wondering how she should go about contacting him. The little therapist didn’t have his own datascape as such, but if she hung around in there, perhaps he would come and see what was going on. Then again, he _had_ completely isolated himself from the outside world. Maybe it was best to just wait and see. If something was truly wrong to a degree where he had to cut himself off from the weave and hide, then she didn’t want to force her way into his mind and risk exposing herself to something dangerous.

She left the datascape, doing her best to think the situation over. Malthus had always been a curious Cephalon, mainly because of his history, but this was something else entirely. Just as she re-entered her own datascape, there was a soft buzz in her mind, the signal of new message waiting for her.

“Oh! My inbox.”

She had already seen Malthus’ message from earlier in the day, but now there were a few new ones. The Tenno called Vale, a few reports from her syndicate, Vale again, a handful of other Tenno… and an interesting advertisement from Ergo Glast, addressed to everybody in the relay. It hadn’t come through her usual inbox: she had a second one, created under a false Tenno name, to catch things like this so that she could stay aware of the state of the Relays.

She opened it up, interested to see what they had come up with. After all, she wasn’t entirely opposed to that particular syndic-

The text on the message made her pause in surprise.

_Calling All Tenno!_

_Are you tired of the stress of battle? Feeling lonely in your life among the stars? Feel like you’re ignored by all of your friends and peers?_

_The_ **_Perrin Sequence_ ** _is here to help! Using the latest Corpus technology, along with some expert knowledge and our good, honest desire to help, we’ve launched a new system-wide service that we’ll be slowly rolling out over the next few days:_

_**The Secura Support Service!** _

_Stop by, or call in remotely, and speak to your very own artificial therapist for only 1000 credits a minute! Or, if you want on-the-go support, get a localised duplicate of your very own therapist for your Orbiter, only 1,000,000 credits each!_

_We at the Perrin Sequence thank you for your business, and we care about you. Don’t bottle up your feelings – let them out in a safe, constructive way!_

_-Ergo Glast, Acting President of the Perrin Sequence_

She was stunned. A therapy service? Had they just copied Malthus’ purpose and made him irrelevant with their own technology? There was no way that they could have created such a complex artificial intelligence in only two weeks, and it was far too specific to be a coincidence. Unless…

Increasingly concerned, she turned completely around and went straight to Malthus’ datascape, ignoring the fact that he wanted to be left alone. Something felt wrong. That feeling persisted once she actually made her way inside, finding the normally-blank, unused datascape of her fellow Cephalon covered in Corpus iconography. It was still an empty void, which was the strange part. There was no reason Malthus would create something like this himself.

Unsure what else to do, she began deliberately bumping into things, knocking over the floating banners and disturbing the surfaces of the various holograms – it was her best attempt at trying to summon Malthus into his own head, but it didn’t seem to be working. Had he been infected with some kind of Corpus system?

One of the banners next to her flickered, shifting from a piece of Corpus motivational text into the Perrin Sequence logo. _Well, that’s not a surprise,_ she thought, pushing herself right through it in an attempt to disturb Malthus until he came to investigate. What had they _done_ to him?

Another soft buzz came through her inbox, and she quickly opened it up, hoping it wasn’t bad news.

_Suda,_

_I know you’re in there, but I need to pretend I don’t. Please, help me._

_-Malthus_

Suda was, for lack of a better term, **furious**. Even if Malthus had no desire to join her syndicate anymore, which she still wasn’t sure about, he didn’t deserve that kind of treatment, especially not for commercial gain. Now was as good a time as any to make use of a little secret she had been working on.

Slipping out of Malthus’ datascape and hurrying back to her own, she began to quickly piece together a set of files she had deliberately scrambled several months ago. She had one for every syndicate system, including her own, and had cut them into separate packets of data to hide them from everybody bar herself and, possibly, Simaris, who wouldn’t care anyway. It only took her a few moments to place everything in the correct order, but once it was done, she executed the program hidden inside. Off it went, spinning through the various Relay systems she was connected to. A few moments later, a small hole formed in her datascape, full of what looked like monitor static. She didn’t even hesitate to go right through, knowing exactly where she would come out.

“ **GLAST!** ”

The entire Perrin Sequence syndicate room froze at the loud yell coming from the walls, most of the operatives drawing their weapons to protect themselves from possible invaders. One by one, each of their monitors and screens switched off, then flickered back to live, replacing the original images and visuals with a live feed of Cephalon Suda’s glowing, pulsing form.

“I know you have him **somewhere**!”

Every piece of technology in the room with a connection to the Relay’s systems was taken over, her voice emitting from any speakers she could access. One by one, the operatives lowered their guard, realising that they couldn’t really do much to harm her. Glast himself looked around at all the different monitors, picking the largest one and confidently striding over.

“Cephalon Suda, how nice to see you again. Were you interested in purchasing some more Corpus technology for your studies?”

“Give me the Cephalon, Glast.”

He looked confused, but she could tell that it was an act. She hoped it was, anyway: if not, she’d be walking away with a shredded reputation.

“We don’t have any Cephalons up for sale at the moment. However, if you’re interested in purchasing one of our new Secura Support Service systems for your own room-“

“He is part of my syndicate. If you do not return him, I will be forced to take more significant action against you.”

“How can you prove that he isn’t here… _willingly_?”

That… was a very good question. Technically, Malthus _had_ said he wanted to be removed from her syndicate, along with Steel Meridian. But there hadn’t been any kind of official documentation for it, and Steel Meridian probably hadn’t even been notified. Considering that the Perrin Sequence were allied against them, there was no way Malthus would have been able to switch so suddenly.

“He is also working with Cressa.”

“I see… although he has not _joined_ the Perrin Sequence, he is merely working _with_ us. After all, he deserves to get paid for his work.”

“And how much are you paying him?” Not enough, she assumed. In fact, Suda would be surprised if they were actually paying him anything at all.

“Well, that depends on how our relationship evolves.” He turned to the side and crossed his arms, looking over to some of his syndicate members. “I can assure you, he has not objected to being here yet.”

“Then let him say so. If he really wants to be there, I would like to hear it from him.”

“And why should I?”

“Because without official, documented consent, he cannot technically ‘leave’ Steel Meridian unless he commits an act worthy of expelling him. If you do not let him say so, then you are technically harbouring an enemy.”

Glast raised one eyebrow and let out a very quiet sigh, presumably hoping that Suda wouldn’t hear it. “Alright. I will have him send a message as soon as he’s ready, although he’s taking a moment to adjust to his new surroundings.”

“ **Not good enough.** ”

One by one, each screen except the one they had been talking through began to flicker, followed by all of the lights in the room dimming. Over in the corner, a handful of unused MOA units owned by the syndicate raised up, their weapons trained on Glast himself.

“I am willing to put my position and reputation on the line for him. Do not think your status as leader of the Perrin Sequence makes you immune to conventional weapons.”

“I’m sorry, Suda, but you have no authority over my syndicate. We are equals, and you are already toeing the line with your behaviour. If this continues…”

He didn’t finish the sentence, but he didn’t need to. She understood his point well enough: _stop trying to pressure me or you’ll make a new enemy._ To be fair, she would do the same thing in his situation, although she would never steal another Cephalon to turn them into a profit slave. Her controlled MOAs sat back down as she disconnected from them, but still prepared to re-activate them at any moment.

“Very well. Then I shall buy him from you.”

She could almost see the credit signs appear in Glast’s eyes as he turned back towards the screen.

“The correct course of action. Aggression is bad for business.”

“What’s your asking price?”

She didn’t want to hear the answer, but she knew what was coming.

“I am prepared to sell such a… _unique_ Cephalon for quite a high price. As a Syndicate leader, I’m sure you have the necessary funds to cover it. How would you feel about fifteen million?”

If Suda had a jaw, it would have dropped. _Fifteen Million Credits_. It was a reasonable price for a Cephalon, especially considering Glast was expecting to earn millions from selling Malthus copies of some kind, but charging that much for one that you’d stolen?

“Of course, if you’re not happy with that arrangement, I would happily accept the equivalent amount of platinum instead.”

Ignoring all of the logical issues her mind was trying to sort through, Suda took the Cephalon equivalent of a deep breath to pep herself up, then cut off the slimy Corpus before his ramblings could continue.

“Fine. Fifteen million credits. Do not expect me to forget this, **Corpus**.”

“Then it’s a deal.” He turned to some of the operatives who were standing off screen, presumably somewhere near Malthus’ body. “Deliver him to Cephalon Suda’s room at once. Oh, and take one of our branded coffee mugs for her, as a small token of appreciation for being such a good customer.”

Suda was completely irate over the man’s behaviour, but she decided to cut the transmission before things got any worse. She got to work setting up the credit transaction, watching as her syndicate’s current credit stockpile took a huge dent. It was a conflicting thing to watch: on one hand, Malthus costing so much of her personal money was rage-inducing, but she also felt bad about the fact that, in her eyes, he wasn’t worth that much.

It didn’t take that long for the Perrin operatives to arrive, pushing a cart that held Malthus’ small, badly-made and almost completely isolated body. There was also the coffee mug, which she immediately told one of her operatives to throw away for her. Having her little therapist friend back – if she even _could_ call him a friend – was nice, but there was a much more significant question weighing on her mind.

Another of her operatives plugged his cables into a spare port she had in one corner of the room, letting him finally gain access to a datascape properly again. His ‘form’ appeared next to her, although it was essentially a glowing mass with no real shape to it. She would have to teach him how to create his own form later on, if she had the time.

“Suda? Did you get me away from them?”

“I did. More accurately, I bought you. Fifteen million credits.”

“I’m… you wasted that much money on me? Does that mean… you _own_ me?”

Yes, that was the question she had been trying to resolve in her own head. Realistically? **No**. Literally and technically? **Yes**. Owning anther Cephalon didn’t feel right, but that’s what had happened, and she couldn’t dispute that fact.

“Calm down, Malthus. We will talk about this later. I need you to tell me what’s going on.”


	8. The Other Side of The Coin, Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While Apra, now calling himself Al'rak, recounts part of his history to the Grineer, Malthus clashes with Suda over something strange he's noticed going on around the Relay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before I post the next chapter (as of writing this), I may go back and add some more detail to the earlier chapters to flesh them out a bit more. If so, expect to see details of it in the notes of Chapter 9 when it arrives. They won't be significant changes, but it's worth point out if you've been reading new chapters as I post them. That's all!

Vam Kula had just finished inspecting the current state of the Tethra Fomorian. She had been _forced_ to execute about six drudges, but that was down from the previous 24-hour work shift, so it looked like things were improving. Soon, the pride of the Grineer, her giant war machine, would be complete. Right now, she needed caffeine.

Her metal legs stomped into the similarly-metal floor of her personal office as she moved over to one of the side desks, picking up a small mug she had brought from her assignment on Earth. It had been carried by one of those filthy Ostrons that they’d gunned down after he’d gone out fishing, so it wasn’t exactly sanctioned by the Grineer Empire, but she preferred to look at it as a spoil of war. If anybody wanted to argue with her about keep it, they could answer to her iron muscles and unbreakable will.

Turning a small valve, she watched at it filled up with the synthetic beverage that most of the officers at her rank were starting to enjoy. One of the Butchers who had helped the carry little machine it in called it ‘cotchke’, but they had the intelligence of a Desert Skate, so they were probably completely wrong and had just said whatever word was in their tiny, squishy head at the time.

“I have just received word from the current head foreman. Your body will be ready very soon.”

From over in the corner, Apra awoke from his Ascaris-induced rest, shaken back into reality by her voice. “General Vam Kula. I’m very happy to see you again.”

“I know you are.” Something was pressing on her consciousness – the part of her mind she most often ignored. She had no qualms about brainwashing this Cephalon, but he had seemed so receptive that it almost felt unnecessary. He was far more intelligent than her other soldiers, and dumbing him down was a waste. In fact, it was a disservice to the Grineer Empire. “I… must admit, you feel that way because I made you. The Ascaris.”

“Oh, yes, I know.”

“You do?”

“Of course. I’m not a basic weak-minded Cephalon. I am fully aware of your brainwashing, and I couldn’t care less, as long as I can still serve a cause that gets me out of deep space.”

She laughed quietly, turning off the valve to stop the drink from flowing and picking up a small rusty spoon. She began stirring it as she spoke, the clinking of the utensil on the ornate mug punctuating her words. “You noticed that I reduced the intensity too?”

“Oh, yes. Don’t worry, I have no desire to turn on you. The Orokin Empire is gone, but as long as the Grineer Empire stands to replace it, I’m committed to your side.”

“And I can trust you?”

“I can’t prove that you can, General. Nothing I say or do will make that clear, unless you put me under the Ascaris completely. I have no society to go back to, and no other home, so even if I didn’t want to work with you, I would be a fool not to.”

Removing the spoon from the mug and shaking off the excess liquid, Kula placed it back on the desk and took a sip of the hot mixture, sighing at the refreshing taste. “You raise an excellent point. Do you know much about being among the Grineer yet?”

“Yes, while you were gone I began to look through the Cephalon weave. I never had a chance to connect before, because I was technically still following the orders the Orokin had given me. As soon as I was told that we… _they_ had been dissolved as a society, those orders no longer applied. The weave had plenty of open records floating around to read.”

“You can access the weave? That gives me even _less_ of a reason to trust you. If you were a Lancer I would execute you for this.”

“I am aware, General. That’s why I decided to retrieve something useful, to prove my loyalty. I was able to intercept some ship Cephalon’s unsecured transmissions. Ordos, or Orbis, a name like that. I have copied the location data for something called ‘Maroo’s Bazaar’.”

Kula had been drinking another sip of her ‘cotchke’ when the Cephalon mentioned the final word of that sentence, and nearly spat it all out again in surprise. “Maroo? We have been trying to track her down for a _long_ time. I would order you to give me the data at once, however… when your new body is complete, it would be the perfect place to show the Origin system what we have created.”

“A show of power for you and your men.”

“Exactly. Grineer and Cephalons, working together under the banner of the Queens. Under _my_ leadership.”

She smirked at the silence that followed. In all truth, she still didn’t full trust the Cephalon, but the Ascaris meant that she could cripple him if he ever turned against him. By the sounds of it, he knew that, too. He had his own agenda in mind, after all, and perhaps they could achieve both their goals in one fell swoop.

“Apra. When we first met you mentioned another Cephalon. Matus.”

“Yes, I almost forgot about that.”

“What is his connection to you? I’m personally curious.”

She took another sip of her drink as the Cephalon’s voice shifted tone slightly, clearly pained by having to remember his actual history rather than relying on his wilful indoctrination. “He betrayed me, me and all the other Orokin. He turned to the Tenno instead because they were being ‘treated badly’, then completely ignored all the innocent men and women they slaughtered. He’s a hypocrite that I should have killed.”

“So you see him as a bad person?”

“No, absolutely not. I can’t hate him. Even if he is responsible for causing the downfall of the Orokin society, or played a part in it, I can’t bring myself to do much more than feel pity for him. If he’s still alive, then I can hopefully see him again some day.

Kula raised one eyebrow, curious. “Why?”

“It’s personal.”

“Hm. And he is a traitor because?”

“He changed. He stopped being an Orokin supporter, then became solely devoted to the Tenno. The day before he came up with the Cephalon plan, he even told me that he refused to give the Dax any therapy since they ‘ _didn’t matter as much as the Tenno’_. It was like none of us mattered anymore, even if we needed his help just as much.”

The Grineer was genuinely interested in his story now, as much as she hated to admit it. She took another sip and nodded. “And that is why you’re trying to find him. Because he ruined your society.”

“Again, no, I don’t hold any hate for him. My reasons are personal, but… I _was_ the one that created him. He strong-armed me into it!” He hesitated for a moment. “I am sorry, General. I did not choose to become a Cephalon. I wouldn’t have been, if he hadn’t made the choices he had.”

“At least now you can serve the Grineer Empire. A better calling.”

“If you say so. But you must understand how I feel. I mean, you have cybernetics yourself.”

He watched as the Grinner officer looked down at her arm, flexing the skinny artificial muscles and joints that dotted the outside. It was clearly almost all machine, if there were even any real nerves in there at all anymore. Probably not, considering the Grineer decayed quite quickly. “My mechanical body gives me the power to serve the Queens directly… but you are not wrong. If I could choose to regain a flesh-and-blood body of the same strength, I would be glad to take the offer.”

“…why didn’t you integrate yourself into the Tethra Fomorian, General?”

“We… experimented with the concept. A living brain can only process so much information in a single second. Extra severs do no good. The first twenty-seven Butchers we tried in the test piloting system _exploded_. Their deaths were in the service of the Queens - it was still an avoidable waste. You understand why I would be wary to try such a system on myself.”

“Anyway, about Matus…”

Al’rak had changed the subject, which Kula was surprised at. There must have been a lot the Cephalon wanted to get out.

“…while I was in the Weave, I read up on all the history I could find about the Orokin. I wouldn’t be surprised if the Tenno uprising was his fault somehow. He used to tell me how the Tenno needed somebody to gather them into a stronger group, and that they would only become equals with us if they fought for it. He wasn’t wrong, but…”

“We Grineer did the same. Look at us now. We are one of the most dominant groups in the system.”

“Yes, you did, but nobody wished you were. The Tenno are different. Every small settlement is sending messages about how great they are, or how much they have helped. The only reason there’s no Orokin or Dax complaining is because there’s none _left_ to complain. The Tenno have enthralled the minds of the independent factions, and they’re conquering the system that way.”

“And why does that make it his fault?” The room fell silent as Vam Kula leant back on the desk behind her, turning her head to look out of the window, her brow furrowing at a certain thought suddenly crossed her mind. “Why do you have a personal vendetta towards him?”

He sighed, his emotions towards his former peer starting to simmer to the surface again. “I really do not want to speak of this, my connection to him is my business alone and I intend to keep it that way…”

The Cephalon trailed off for a moment, almost like he had been distracted by some errant thought. It didn’t seem like something a Cephalon would do. Kula sipped at her mug, shivering as the warm liquid tricked into her body. If she had real organs left, they were probably glad for the hydration. “He was working with the Tenno?”

“No. Himself. I had assumed he was a Tenno sympathiser right up until I asked him what he precepts should be, as I was preparing the conversion. There was definitely an ulterior motive for his actions.”

“What did he say?”

“It’s been a long time, but… he said something like _‘All of the therapy precepts I designed. Give me the Neural Sentry precepts, too. It’s the only way this will work.’_

“Neural Sentries are from the Towers. Correct?”

“Yes. But there was no reason why he _needed_ them. I don’t know why I agreed to it, everything about the request felt wrong. But I did it anyway.”

The Grineer General placed her mug on the desk she was leaning against, crossing her mechanical arms over her chest. “Interesting. What do you think he needed those extra precepts for?”

The Cephalon let out another sigh, his voice dropping to just above a whisper. There was a lot of paranoia in the way he spoke, and he chose each word carefully, with plenty of distinction and specificity.

“I think… he found a way to use the technology as a Cephalon. The Neural Sentries would ‘mind-control’ anybody who wasn’t supposed to be on board, and make them fiercely loyal towards protecting that location. And since he wanted to spend time around the Tenno…”

Kula’s eyes widened, and she finished the sentence for him.

“He wanted to put them under his control.”

“Maybe. I had to put a stop to it. I… _partially_ wiped his memories during the conversion, but the precepts are still there. If he ends up activating them again, I have no idea what might happen, or if they’ll even work. But if it does, there’s no guarantee that there's a limit containing it, unlike the Orokin Towers you’re all used to. It might just spread and spread.”

Kula placed her mug on the desk, standing up and raising her head high. Things had suddenly gotten a lot more complicated, especially now that this rogue Cephalon could have a direct impact on her goals, and by extension the goals of the Queens. Striding over to Al’rak, she picked up his metal, barrel-shaped body and began carrying him out of the room. She didn’t even stop to lock her door properly, leaving her guards to do it for her.

“Where are we going, General?”

“To your new body. It is not completely ready, but we need to act as soon as possible. I will contact the Queens, and you will tell them exactly what you told me. Then we will installing you. Can you find him through the Cephalon weave?”

“I think I might be able to…”

“Start looking. We will go after him _first_ , then the Tenno.”

= = =

“Somebody was looking for me. That’s all I know.”

Malthus sighed at the lack of details he had. He would have offered more, but he knew almost nothing about the situation. Suda cared about him, but he really couldn’t provide a better answer to her.

“Are you absolutely sure?”

“If I knew, I would tell you, I promise. It might not have even been a real feeling, I’m still not used to the weave…”

He had definitely felt like something was seeking him out, but maybe that was just what the Weave was like. After all, he had only spent about a day getting used to it, and there were probably dozens of different variables he knew nothing about. Plus, even if somebody _was_ looking for him, was that actually guaranteed to be a bad thing?

“Could it be some latent memories? Even though you appear to have lost your knowledge and memories of life with the Orokin, there may still be scraps hanging on.”

“I don’t _know,_ Suda. Maybe… maybe it was just the Perrin Sequence. They sole me, so they could have been tracking me for a while…”

“Yes, the well-planned kidnapping would suggest that was the case. You are safe now, Malthus. I will take care of you.”

Something wasn’t right. The events of the last few days had seemed… very forced. It had sometimes felt like all of the syndicates had been trying to play a prank on him, although there was no way that was the case, especially considering the massive waste of time and resources that would have been. A simple, one-word question pushed its way into his mind, one that he was surprised he hadn’t thought about asking before.

“ _Why_?”

“Why? What do you mean?”

“Why are you going to take care of me? Why are you… acting like this?”

Suda seemed to freeze up for a moment, as if she was trying to think of a suitable response. Four long, uncomfortable seconds passed before she replied.

“I… do not understand what you mean.”

“Suda, something isn’t right. _Three_ syndicates have tried to get me to join them, and Simaris has done the same. All of the Tenno I’ve met have been overly nice, and some have even given me free things that they’ve paid a lot of money for. You yourself paid millions of credits to get me back.”

“Why is that behaviour wrong? You are a valuab-”

“I talked to Cal while I was ‘isolating’ myself from the rest of you. You know, the Tenno who saved me from the derelict? He hasn’t left the Relay since I arrived.”

“Maybe he is just-“

“I heard from Lyri, that other Tenno. She hasn’t left either.”

“The Relays are a very popular-“

“I messaged their ship Cephalons. They have been _begging_ both Tenno to come back, and they haven’t been responding to them _at all_. Apparently, a lot of the other Tenno who visited me during my first days here are acting the same way.”

Suda fell silent. Malthus continued, the concern in his voice growing.

“Suda, what’s going on in the Relay? Why is everything focused on me?”

She stayed silent, her form starting to… tremble slightly. After a few more seconds, she began to speak again, much more deadpan than usual.

“You’re are a unique Cephalon… you’re valuable, you are kind… you deserve to have people who want to be around you…”

“This isn’t you, Suda. You’re not like this. Ever since I’ve arrived, you’ve been changing. Using contractions in sentences, making up excuses to spend time with me instead of your Syndicate duties, and even going as far as to pay an incredibly amount of money to another Syndicate just to have me come back to you. Not for my freedom – just to have me _back here_.”

“How… did you know that’s why I did it?”

“I didn’t. But I had a feeling that was why, and your response just confirmed it for me. Something is **happening** to the people on this Relay, and if you're the cause of it, I want it to stop. Now!”

“Malthus, I am just trying to be your friend-“

“What you’ve been doing goes **beyond** friendship, Suda! You’re obsessed! And it’s not just you – ever since I came into your datascape once you took me back from the Perrin Sequence, I’ve been getting messages **constantly**. There are Tenno literally **lining up** to speak to me at my Relay room, and some of them are even ignoring their ship Cephalons to do it!”

“Malthus, please. Listen to my explanation.”

He sighed, lowering his voice back to a reasonable level again. “Fine. I’m sorry, Suda, I’m just… I’ve been worried.”

“I know, Matus, I know. It’s alright, I don’t blame you.”

“Wait.”

Something inside Malthus’ head snapped. _Matus_. That was _him_. Or it… should have been. Was it his old name? More importantly…

“How did you know that name, Suda?”

“It’s… it’s your…”

“I never told you that name. I never _knew_ that was my name until you just repeated it. **How** did you know it, Suda?”

“I… didn’t… it just came into my mind…”

Something was very, very wrong. Turning around and hurrying out of Suda’s datascape, Malthus retreated back to the Weave, watching as her form began to follow him out. He could also see Simaris doing the same, leaving his datascape despite only leaving sanctuary when absolutely necessary. He didn’t stop for them. Something was wrong with everybody on the Relay, and he had to find a way to fix it.

Returning to his own body, he switched on the camera just in time to see dozens of Tenno filling the room, each patiently waiting for him. This was completely _insane_. It almost felt like he was in some kind of simulation, but there was no way that could have happened. He wasn’t still stuck in some kind of Perrin Sequence machine, was he?

He felt around for a while, trying to see if there was any trace of this being another datascape. No, nothing. This was real, at least as far as he knew. Turning his microphone and speaker on, he turned the camera towards the assembled Tenno, choosing his words carefully.

“Why are you all here?”

Various responses came back from the crowd, all more or less the same. _We wanted to see you. We missed you. We were worried about you._ They were reasonable, but something felt… off about it all, still.

“Tenno, all of you, I… I feel like something is happening to the Relay. Is there any way I can be plugged into some kind of announcement system? I need a way to warn people that…”

Before he had even finished speaking, two of the Tenno had ripped off a side panel in his room and sorted through the cables. He trailed off as they brought it up to him and held it out, ready to plug him in. That was… _extremely strange._ Tenno weren’t this destructive to the relay on their own, something was clearly influencing them.

He didn’t like this, but he had to inform the Relay at large. He’d send the message, then isolate himself or get himself sent off into space for a while. It felt like something was targeting him, trying to change the world around him. Could it be that Hunhow being he’d heard about earlier? No, there was no way – he hadn’t been able to control the Tenno. Could he?

Putting his panicked possible solutions aside, Malthus let the Tenno plug him in, and began connecting to each accessible screen and speaker he could find.

= = =

All across the Relay, monitors dimmed and flickered as Malthus began to project himself onto them, keeping himself isolated to small in the bottom corner to the side so that he didn’t interfere with any important operations or readings.

“People of the Relay, Tenno, syndicate members, all of you. I am Cephalon Malthus, and something is bad happening. I have been noticing strange psychological behaviour in quite a few of you, which is slowly progressing towards obsession. Obsession **with me**. Cephalon Suda has been affected by this strange phenomenon, and she has repeated information to me that she had no way of knowing. My real name. Matus. Not even I had the memories of that being my name, yet she somehow knew anyway."

“I do not understand what is causing this, but it has already started to affect Cephalon Simaris and a handful of Tenno. I have a feeling that **I** maybe linked in some way, so until a solution can be determined, I will isolate myself from this Relay, and from the community at large. I will still try my best to-“

He paused. His inbox was buzzing extremely fast, with what must be dozens of messages flooding in. He opened it up and felt a wave of concern enter his mind as he noticed the titles streaming in, new messages constantly appearing and pushing the old ones downwards.

_All of them mentioned his ‘real’ name in the title. And they just. Kept. Coming. Begging him not to leave, offering to give him anything to make him stay._

Each one was from a different Tenno. Pulling his attention back to the message he was sending, he tried to make his voice as serious and authoritative as possible.

“Stop! Stop the messages! What are you all doing!? Just… stop **everything**!”

Instantly, the buzzing stopped. Confused, he accessed the few public Relay cameras that weren’t protected by a security system, and…

_No._

_No. No, it’s happening._

Every monitor he could see through the system was surrounded by not only Tenno, but regular Relay citizens as well, each watching intently. They were standing stock still, barely moving other than to breathe. They had all followed his orders literally. _Just like he had said, they'd stopped doing everything._ Not a single soul in the Relay – at least as far as he could see- were still focused on what they had been working on, all of them doing nothing but watching his form on the screen.

A small crack appeared in the back of his mind. Only a tiny one, but it was a gateway into another part of his life. His post-Cephalon life.

For a brief moment, he felt extreme confusion and pity, unsure what was making the Tenno act this way. But slowly, from deep within his thoughts, a different sensation began to creep up from inside him.

_Yes._

The crowds of assorted Relay citizens stood there almost motionless, ready to receive orders.

_It’s happening. It’s finally happening. That precept… it works after all…_

Something in his precepts shifted, and he felt everything around him start to spin. Priorities changed. His goals and purpose were redefined. His morals… stopped being a concern. Somehow, after all this time, the Neural Sentry was fully activated, after it has oh-so-subtly tweaked the way those around him thought.

It had built itself a body. A body capable of controlling others.

_You couldn’t erase me forever, could you, Apra? A simple mind wipe won’t kill The Therapist._


	9. The Other Side of The Coin, Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While Ordis investigates a disappearance, Al'rak receives a message in the weave that forces him to take control of the situation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've gone back and re-written some small sections of earlier chapters, so there might be some discrepancies or extra bits if you've been keeping up with this as each new chapter releases. Enjoy this lead-up to the next chapter, which may be my longest one yet!

No matter where you went in the Tethra Fomorian construction site on Ceres, you were always either getting rained on, or watching somebody else who was getting rained on. It was a necessity, really: the ship was so large that an enclosed space would be extremely impractical, and it also made it far easier to spot approaching ships. It didn’t really matter if any of the Drudges began to corrode, either, since the smart ones could have new limbs fitted and the unintelligent ones could be recycled.

Vam Kula and Apra were both equally stressed. The Cephalon had actually asked her to stay around him more to help calm him down, claiming that he was used to having an authority figure to follow - a request she had been forced to deny due to the situation at hand. She still didn’t completely trust him, but that was true of anybody under her command. At least he had been honest about it, and outright stated the specific reasons why he was willing to aid the Grineer forces. Even if he stabbed her in the back, he wouldn’t be able to get far without feeling the full might of her fleet.

“Foreman. How much longer?”

The body of the ship looked almost complete, and Kula could finally get a good understanding of size in comparison to a normal Fomorian. It was probably at least fifty-percent bigger in its unfinished state, with no signs of getting any smaller.

“About twenty-six hours, General Kula! All of the components are in a nearly-completed state, and the frame is ready to use. We just need to tweak the weapons systems and perform a test fire once it leaves the atmosphere, and then all of the practical sections will be done. Superficial parts can be installed later if they’re needed.”

“Good. I want to speed things up: you will be installing Apra at the same time we do the weapon calibration tests. How much time will that save us?”

The Chief Foreman looked surprised, and quickly ran the calculations in his head. “It would bring us down to about eighteen hours. Twelve if we also combine the live-fire tests and calibrations. I’d estimate we’ll have flight capability in ten or eleven hours. Have we been ordered to deploy the Tethra Fomorian?”

“Not yet. I will contact the Queen… _Queens_ and.”

“I understand. Do you need us to do anything for you, General?”

“No. Get back to construction. Faster is better.”

It felt like she had been awake for at least three days straight, or whatever the equivalent amount of time on Ceres would be. Her mechanical parts could take most of the strain, but she was still starting to struggle to stay focused.

Nodding to the foreman, she turned away and briskly walked over to Apra, who had been fitted to a small cart to make his temporary body easier to move. His silence meant that he was probably in the weave again, trying to find any useful relevant information he could. That was another good reason to rein in the Ascaris whenever possible – even if he was planning something against the Grineer, his access to the weave was incredibly easy to exploit. She just needed to find the sweet spot between total Ascaris indoctrination and free will.

Bored out of her mind and frustrated at the slow progress, the general took a moment to just sit down and rest against a wall. She would have gone straight back to her command room, but there was no point, since she would have to push the Cephalon’s bulky, barrel-like mass all the way there again, and she was too strong to fall victim to something as weak and pitiful as sleep. No, she would just wait in this corner, where none of her men could see her in such a state. Maybe it would pass the time faster.

In her mind, she went over the recent events again. It had all seemed really convenient at first, especially the way that the recovered Cephalon had reacted to the Ascaris. She had even been suspicious at first, but he seemed complaint. _Inconsistently_ compliant. Had Ven’kra modified her version of the Ascaris restraining device so much that it had stopped working properly? The longer she thought about it, the less sense it made. Something was up with him. The problem was, they didn’t even know if this other Cephalon was _real_ , or just some lie he had made up to gain her trust.

But _why_ had she accepted it?

That was the part that stuck out to her. She had brainwashed this Cephalon, but not entirely. In fact, she had felt an overwhelming need to avoid doing that, like something had been pressuring her to ignore her instincts. Grineer weren’t supposed to do that. But she would know if she had some defect in her genetics, wouldn’t she?

There was something oddly comforting about being around Apra temporary body. It was impossible to explain exactly why, but despite the concerns she had about him, Kula could feel her body start to relax and stretch out as both her organic and mechanical muscles began slowly loosening. She hadn’t noticed just how _tired_ she suddenly felt.

Telling herself that she wouldn’t fall asleep, the woman’s eyelids started to grow heavy. She had been surviving on synthesised stimulant drinks for far too long, and she needed a quick nap. Apra wouldn’t be going anywhere for hours. It would be okay to take a short rest… just enough to jog her mind… awake…

= = =

Ordis was panicking. His Operator had gone completely silent for multiple days now. He knew it was wrong to question her actions, and if she wanted to abandon him again, he wouldn’t argue, but… _he was so_ _lonely_. Had he done something wrong? If he _had_ failed her, it was probably for the best: she could go and find a new Cephalon, one who was better-equipped to support her and to love her like a ship Cephalon should.

Still, he couldn’t really do anything without her approval. If she was simply staying on an extended break down in the Relay, he couldn’t let himself betray her by leaving: he would _have_ to confirm that she wanted him gone. There was no other way he could ensure that he was doing the wrong thing, and he had to make sure his Operator was happy, no matter what that entailed.

Opening up the ship’s inbox, Ordis noticed something… odd. A message had arrived from an address just called ‘The Relay’, with a completely blank sender image. Worried about the safety of the Operator, – as well as Suda and Simaris, of course – he decided to open it up immediately, ready to act on whatever problem they had gotten into.

Instead, he received a very plain-looking, nicely-written message, the sender still unidentified. He recognised the voice, though… was there somebody new on the Relay that he hadn’t had a chance to meet before?

_Hello, all Tenno, or associates of Tenno that happen to be staying on their ships. You are receiving this message because you are part of one of the many syndicates with a presence on the Relays. I am Matus, and I am now the Cephalon in charge of the Relay stationed at the co-ordinates included in this message. You may have heard of me from word of mouth: I am known as The Therapist._

_In honour of my new position, all syndicates are working together to throw a station-wide party. Consider this message your official invitation!_

_Now, you may hear some small rumours that something had happened in this Relay, and in a way, that’s true! Now that everybody’s willing to get along, we can all start working as one community! A united Tenno nation, expanding across the stars… and you could be some of the first Tenno, the ones who started it all. So please, come and visit us –_ **_n-no, don’t visit us-s-s, it’s a –_ ** _place so great that you’ll want to stay longer than a visit!_

_This is Matus, of the newly-formed Tenno Enclave in the newly-named Enclave Relay, warmly and happily inviting you into its ranks! Remember: we’re stronger, together._

Ordis was… confused. A party? Wouldn’t he have been informed of such things ahead of time, through the weave? Surely Suda would have had the decency to contact him, especially after the time they had worked together during the… _Hunhow situation_. It didn’t feel right with him, but he also had to follow his precepts as closely as possible, and that meant that he couldn’t force the Operator to return.

Then again, his precepts didn’t say anything about _happening_ to be in the same place as an Operator that didn’t want him anymore, and he was reasonably sure that they were overdue for a visit to Darvo. He pointed the ship towards the relay and began to drift in its direction, approaching at a safe speed and making sure to double-check all on-board security measures just in case. The Orbiter would enter the Relay’s general vicinity in only ten seconds or so, which gave him enough time to quickly review and prepare a few emergency precepts in case the operator wasn’t… with them anymore.

As soon as they were within the safe threshold, he began scanning through the entire Orbiter for something he could send down to observe the situation. He couldn’t go himself, due to his lack of a physical body, but there may be something in the operator’s Arsenal storage…

_Ah, yes. Helios!_

The little sentinel was still hovering in its usual spot, calmly waiting for the next mission its Tenno would be departing on: Ordis had no idea if this would work, but it was worth a try. Connecting to the Helios directly through its storage and maintenance tools, he began a very brief conversation with it – in real time, barely a second. It was much more efficient than simply talking to it via the ship’s internal speakers, especially since he had no idea what was really going on down on the Relay after so much time had passed.

Regardless, within another twenty seconds or so, the Liset landing craft had been deployed and was quietly making its way to one of the few remaining open landing locations. They were never normally this full, since traffic would make its way in and out on a minute-to-minute basis, but this ‘party’ was probably retaining a lot of guests. There was nobody there to welcome the Tenno that would normally have arrived, which gave the Helios – under semi-direct control from Ordis – a chance to subtly slip its way through the open entranceways. The uncomfortably silent halls were more than a little unnerving, but he was more concerned about the Operator. Every second without seeing them was another second that be began to doubt their safety. All this stress wasn’t good for his mind.

He had always found the energy fields protecting the main hallways unusual, since they didn’t seem to have much of a practical purpose. In Maroo’s Relay, they were turned off almost permanently, but they never seemed to get deactivated any of the others. The security control chair that normally managed them was completely empty, which was another troubling sign, but nothing he couldn’t still explain away.

It wasn’t until he emerged in the main concourse that he noticed something was wrong. Gone was the general hustle and bustle of the Relay’s largest open space, replaced by almost complete silence as Tenno, Solaris, Ostron and regular citizens alike all went about their business without even so much as greeting one another. It wasn’t entirely unreasonable, since tensions sometimes ran high even in these neutral areas, but that wasn’t the part that concerned him. It was the fact that the Tenno themselves seemed so… _still_. A large portion of them simply weren’t moving at all, either through their Warframes or in-person. In the past, whenever he had seen a Tenno so motionless, they were usually going through one of their logistical menus or reading their inbox, but that definitely wasn’t the case here.

Moving the Helios higher to avoid anybody’s line of sight, Ordis tried to figure out what to do next. He still wasn’t sure exactly what was going on, but something had happened to this place, and it was probably a good idea to be as careful as possible. Even if he was wrong, the Operator might not appreciate him trying to follow her when she wasn’t in any danger, so it was the best option for both of them, really.

Getting to a good vantage point overlooking most of the concourse, he switched the sentinel to scan mode, zooming in to take a good look at the various people moving from place to place down below. Everything seemed more or less the same from a distance – all the screens were still operating, there were no obvious signs of danger, and some of the staff were even still working on the consoles that controlled some vital functions. He really couldn’t tell exactly what was different, other than the Tenno acting a bit unusually, but he really felt like it wasn’t safe to hang around for much longer.

Zooming in further on one of the Tenno, he quickly scanned their Excalibur Warframe, pausing in shock as he realised that it had become a separate entity in the Codex. That didn’t make sense – he already had a database of all known Warframes. Shifting the Helios into a more concealed location, he quickly switched over to his own personal version of the Codex, curious as to why it had been counted as a separate entity.

Everything looked the same in the entry, visually, but there was one thing that caught him off guard.

The faction it had been automatically listed under.

_The Corrupted._

Well, that was a big problem.

He continued scanning, letting Helios take over the targeting duties for him. Each person or frame they scanned was part of the Corrupted, and that meant one of two things. Either a Void Fissure had broken out in the middle of the Relay without anybody noticing, or somebody had found a way to convert them forcibly. But who? Surely they would have noticed a fissure in the Relay, and there was more than enough Tenno to contain it. They had never been vulnerable to any other Fissures either, had they? It wasn’t’ something he’d ever had to consider before.

Suddenly, just as he was about to scan his fifth Corrupted syndicate operative, a voice began to echo through the Relay, apparently being broadcast from dozens of different speakers all across the concourse – and probably in other places, although he hadn’t even known the Relay _had_ an announcement system like this.

“Attention, all new visitors! If you are heading this automated message, then I’m happy to welcome you to the newest –and greatest – Relay in the system! I am Matus, overseer of the Tenno Enclave. Please remain still and wait for one of my assistants to introduce you to your new home!”

Matus? Ordis hadn’t heard that name before. Whoever he was, he was clearly the reason for all of this. Uncomfortable memories of dealing with Cephalon Jordas were starting to float back up to the surface of his mind, but he suppressed them, focusing on the task at hand instead. Only one of the syndicates often used the Corrupted as a death squad, so it felt reasonable to assume that this was the Arbiters of Hexis’ doing, but they didn’t have the motive for this kind of thing.

Taking full control of Helios again, Ordis began floating off deeper into the Relay, hoping that he was prepared for whatever might be lying in wait for him.

= = =

Apra was enjoying this. The Grineer was much easier to manipulate than he had expected. The Ascaris had worked, of course, but it hadn’t taken long to convince Kula that he was trustworthy.

He hadn’t been lying about Matus. It was highly likely that he was already using his Neural Sentry precepts by now. To be entirely honest, he had no idea how a Neural Sentry even worked, since that had always been Matus’ specialty back when they were alive. All he knew was that, in one way or another, the traitorous Cephalon had managed to turn himself into a consciousness capable of controlling others. He had assumed it would need specific components, but apparently Matus had figured it out himself. That, or the Orokin had never _needed_ those components to begin with.

Of course, he had failed to mention to General Kula that he had been produced almost immediately afterwards, before the Orokin had realised that there had been some major changes to the precepts. Whatever Matus was, Apra was too – but without the mind-wipe, it hadn’t taken long to get used to his Neural Sentry precepts.

Slowly, but surely, he had been working his way into the minds of all the Grineer in the area, nudging them in the right direction. The entire “give a Cephalon a giant war machine” had been something they had decided to do themselves, but he had been happy to _chip in_ with a few ideas as construction continued. Nothing too major – some weapon changes, upgrades to its detection systems, that kind of thing. Kula seemed convinced that many of these changes had been her own idea, which he found amusing.

He had nothing against them, personally. In fact, these Grineer seemed much more honest than the Orokin had ever been. It seemed that if you were executed, it was because of a legitimate mistake, not simply because you smiled at the wrong person. He had no intention of permanently turning them into Corrupted, either: after all, the Corrupted were just another relic of the society that no longer existed, and one that had literally taken away his life for something another person had done.

No, the plan was a lot more direct than that. He would get his new body, sway the Grineer to his side and find Matus. He wasn’t even being fuelled by morality, or a genuine desire to improve the system: he just wanted to figure out what was going on. Judging by the files he had been able to search through, things weren’t looking good for, well… _anybody_.

Kula hadn’t spoken in a while. Apra swore he could hear snoring, but the ambient noise of Ceres’ acid rain made it difficult to tell if that was the case. He began prodding around with his mind, looking to see how many of his marginally-corrupted targets were still nearby, ad noticed that she was apparently near-comatose with exhaustion. Just like he had told her to be, not that she knew it.

He had done that for a very specific reason. When construction was closer to being complete, somebody would probably come and wake her up, letting him know that it was time for him to get installed. The less time he had to wait, the better, but for now, he would just keep checking the weave to find any hints towards Matus’ location.

Focusing his mind a little bit more than usual, he managed to enter a very vague, stretched version of the weave’s own datascape. Not having proper servers or a datascape of his own made it hard to navigate, but he was getting better, especially now that he was full of Grineer research on the subject. From his perspective, it was very Orokin in design, full of ornate white-and-gold architecture that stretched on for thousands of miles in each direction. Another reminder of the people that ruined his life, which was no doubt coded in by them specifically to irritate him. He had a decent understanding of how to search for specific information, but it would take a while.

The last time the Cephalon had searched for Matus by name, he had found very little, other than a few unrelated written pieces by bored Cephalons who wanted to exercise their creativity. Starting his general search, he watched as specific objects began to light up in the distance, representing pieces of information or accessible datascapes that had some relation to the search term. There were _far_ more than he remembered. That was… troubling.

Heading over to one of the nearest points, he found an isolated message that had been sent to the outside world, drifting through the Cephalon weave as if it had been simply left there. There was no telling how old it was, or whether it was safe, but the title intrigued him:

_Matus Found Me_

It appeared to be sent by a certain… Cephalon Ordis, a name he wasn’t personally familiar with. It seemed like the recipient address had been entered incorrectly, and he couldn’t make out who it was supposed to have gone to. The text of the message was the part that made him worried, though.

_To any Cephalon who can help:_

_My name is Cephalon Ordis, and I am in trouble. My Operator has been… converted into one of the Corrupted, along with many other Operators. The ‘Tenno Enclave’ is a lie. I am in serious danger, and they have clamped by Orbiter to the landing pad so that I can no longer leave this Relay. Thankfully, they cannot get inside, and they don’t seem to know that I have control of a Helios sentinel._

_I am… trapped. This is not normal Corruption, and I’m not sure how much longer I can hide from them. I have included the Relay’s coordinates. Send help, but do not endanger yourselves._

_-Cephalon Ordis._

Well, that confirmed it. That was the exact same Matus he was looking for, and according to the sent date, this message was only an hour old. A relief, but it didn’t give him much time to plan ahead, especially now that other Cephalons were at risk. He would need to wait until construction was complete, get himself installed into the Tethra Fomorian, and do his best to put a stop to this once and for all. For now, there was some preparation work to do.

= = =

About four hours had passed since Ordis had managed to send out a message begging for help. In that time, six other ships had docked, at least as far as he could see from his own position on the Orbiter. Every single one had contained at least one Tenno, who had happily walked right into the concourse entry halls without so much as hesitating. He had tried to stop them, done whatever he could to send a message, but they had either ignored him or set it aside so that they could complete their business there first. None of them had walked back out. Through Helios, he saw the entire process first-hand, his despair growing as each new Tenno fell to the Corruption.

It always went the same way. They would walk out into the main area, trying to chat with some of the other citizens and noticing that none were replying. Before they had a chance to question what was going on, Matus’ automated message would broadcast, and they’d be too engrossed in what he was saying to notice a crowd of other Tenno, syndicate members and independent visitors gathering around them.

By that point, they were clearly already succumbing to it, but that obviously wasn’t good enough for Matus, whoever he was. The crowd would grab them and lead them away, deeper into the relay – specifically, the Perrin Sequence room, which had been refurbished into a kind of interrogation area. There, they would be restrained until the Corruption took hold, never getting a chance to fully understand what was happening to them. It was sick.

He desperately wanted to help them. He made sure to scan each one, keeping a record of who they were, just in case he ever got the chance to speak to them again. He would apologise, and tell them that he stood by and watched. They deserved to know.

Ordis’ train of thought was interrupted by a gentle buzz in the back of his mind, hinting that a new message had arrived. He had expected somebody on the Relay to contact him now that they knew he was there, but it had been practically silent out on the landing pads. They had even tried to shut down his ability to send messages properly, but the weave was far too large to block, and he had tried his best to push out little emergency messages every now and then.

It was a reply to one of his first pleas for help, from a Cephalon with a strange name that didn’t really… _fit_ with most other Cephalon names. He explained that he wouldn’t have an operational ship until the following day, but will be able to provide military support if needed, as well as firepower from his vessel itself. This definitely troubled Ordis a little bit, but the vague wording meant that it was probably just a Railjack Command Cephalon with a few personality quirks.

His confidence renewed at the promise of support, he reactivated Helios’ auto-scanning system and started to log everything he could, preparing as much information as possible for the rescue team when they arrived. If he was _really_ lucky, he might even find his Operator somewhere.

This façade of confidence instantly dropped when, a few seconds later, another Liset moved up to the docking pads, connecting itself into place and dropping out another Tenno, this time operating Wisp. He took a moment to scan her with the ship’s own instruments, adding her to the list of Operators he had seen enter recently. This inability to help them was crushing, but now that there was help on the way, he had to avoid detection as much as possible. As far as he knew, he was the only _non-corrupted_ being on the Relay, other than this Matus person himself, so he might be the only one that could leak information out. Every detail could count, especially since so many Tenno were at risk, not to mention important political leaders and millions of vital pieces of data.

He had to admit that he was a little bit excited, though. He, _Ordis_ , was going to mount a rescue mission for his Operator. He could finally be the hero.


	10. The Other Side of The Coin, Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Tethra Fomorian is launched, much to Matus surprise and annoyance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one isn't as long as I was hoping, but that's purely because of how things panned out. I'll make the NEXT one The Big One (TM) instead.

Raise left engine power to 50%. Reduce. Deactivate. Raise right engine power to 50%. Reduce. Deactivate. Repeat.

Apra had been taking part in these tests for a while now, and it was starting to get irritating. He couldn’t deny that safety checks were important, but he was really tempted to simply force the Grineer to leave the Tethra Fomorian as-is. He couldn’t even connect to the rest of the body yet, despite it being basically finished: not because key pieces were missing, but simply because they hadn’t actually connected those parts up yet.

Raise left engine power to 50%. Reduce, Deactivate. Repeat again and again and again until the construction teams were satisfied that it wouldn’t blow up the moment it left the atmosphere. Even worse, it took so much focus to get right that he wasn’t even able to reliably access the weave properly - the last thing the Cephalon wanted to do was blow up an entire ship by losing focus for a few extra seconds, especially now that Matus had been located.

Raise left engine power to 50%. Reduce. Deactivate. Raise right engine power to 50%. Reduce. Deactivate. Repeat.

Even though he didn’t have any external eyes in this body yet, he was fully aware of his size. It was almost disorienting to ‘feel’ engines that were connected to you so far away – in a way, it was like being stretched out, with your mind still thinking that everything still followed the normal scale of your body. He really, really didn’t like it, but perhaps things would improve once the rest of his new home was completed.

Raise left engine power to 50%. Reduce. Deactivate. Raise right engine power to 50%. Reduce. Deactivate. Repeat.

 **Stop**.

He didn’t know exactly how, but he could tell that the tests had concluded. Perhaps he’d felt the monitoring computers suddenly disconnect, although he wasn’t entirely sure what that would feel like in this body yet. At last, he could finally relax for a moment and get his bearings, even if it was only for less than a minute. Then again, to the rapidly-decaying Grineer, a minute may as well be a month. Taking a moment to check his own crude inbox that he had built for himself, he tried to see if that other Cephalon – Ordis, was it? – had replied.

Surprisingly, there actually _was_ another message, although it didn’t say anything new. Ordis was mostly just babbling about needing help and wanting to ‘save his Operator’, but Apra sent him a short response telling him to stay put and wait for their arrival. If there was even a minuscule chance of him knowing something about the situation, they needed him alive and away from the Corrupted for as long as possible.

He didn’t know whether the altered Neural Sentry technology would be able to control a Cephalon, but he hoped not. If that was the case, Ordis could be a lure to draw them in, but it was a chance he had to take anyway. Personal vendettas aside, he needed to stop Matus as fast as possible, more so now that there was a high chance of dozens of Tenno falling under his command if they hadn’t already. He was by no means their friend or supporter, but the last thing he wanted to do was let them become the most dominant, unified force in the Origin system. _They_ ruined the Orokin society and _Matus_ ruined… well, Matus had caused problems, so dealing with them both at once would be extremely beneficial to every other living thing.

There was also the fact that he could do all of this while piloting a giant war machine, an experience he’d hate to miss.

These thoughts were interrupted by General Vam Kula’s rough yet surprisingly gentle voice, which echoed through the basic microphone they had hooked up to him. According to the blueprints he had been shown earlier, the full chassis would have dozens of large microphones for picking up sounds in every direction, but they hadn’t been connected properly yet. It was probably for the best, since having so many different stimuli at once would probably overwhelm Apra before he got the time to properly adjust.

The Ascaris device started buzzing again, a sign that General Kula was wanting to contact him remotely. That likely meant that she wasn’t in the room, so they were probably getting close to a full-on launch by now. He decided to simply wait patiently for her voice to come through, hoping that it was some good news.

“Apra. The engines appear to work as expected. Almost all of the shell is completed. All Drudges have been sent to connect you to the rest of the ship. Weapons testing will begin within the hour - then we can take flight.”

One hour was longer than he wanted, but there was nothing he could do about it. Well, that wasn’t technically true, but forcing the Grineer to speed the process up would cause more problems than it solved. Even if the entire message about Matus wasn’t true, there was still no reason to slow things down, especially since the Tethra Fomorian would be such a massive target to any Tenno that stumbled across it. The _last_ thing he wanted was to deal with Tenno right now, especially after what they had done to the society he had called his home.

“I propose a slight change, General. We’ll probably fly past asteroid belts and clusters on our way to the Relay. Perhaps we can test the weapons while we’re on the move?”

There was a short delay, but he still didn’t know if it was a legitimate pause, or just the Ascaris device being too crude to properly send messages. After all, it was _supposed_ to be a restraining device, so the Grineer’s modifications were probably quite slapdash.

“…I agree. The Tethra Fomorian must launch as soon as possible. I will tell the acting foreman to change the schedule.”

That was a bit of a surprise. It wasn’t clear if she meant that she wanted to take on Matus, or if she was just eager to get her new superweapon up and running. Probably both. She definitely wasn’t like the other members of her ‘race’, if you could call them that: Apra was actually starting to feel a bit fond of her, if only because she was far more honest than his Orokin masters had been.

“General, are you sure you want to be on board?”

“Absolutely. You will be the finest creation in all of Grineer engineering, and I am a _General_ , and a General leads her men into battle on the biggest and strongest steed they can create. **That** is the Kula way.”

Interesting – so Kula was a family or group of some kind? It hadn’t been unheard of for Grineer of his time to create similar collectives. He heard the sudden, sharp sound of metal on metal, like her cybernetic fist banging on a desk or thin Ferrite wall, and snapped his attention back to her voice.

“I want to be there when I watch you annihilate your first Tenno. And then, when they crawl on board like the sneaky worms they are, trying to burrow into your systems… I will s **nap their tiny necks with my own hands.** Not for the Queens and not for the Grineer, but for myself. For us.”

There was another loud bang, followed by the sound of something hollow shattering and liquid spilling. Her gravel-layered voice muttered something about her ‘favourite mug’, and she sighed, continuing her train of thought.

“I _do not_ _trust you_ , not completely. You have shown hints of avoiding the Ascaris brainwashing. You have your own agenda, and you are clearly hoping to fulfil that agenda with the help of the Grineer forces. But for some reason, I _like_ you, something I never say about my normal soldiers. You are still loyal only to yourself, just like me.”

“You don’t serve the Queens?”

The General chuckled, her laugh coming out more like a barking cough. “I did not say that. I serve the Queens. But I am only an extension of their will until it conflicts with my own.”

“So you’re a defector, then?”

“No. I am not a defector. Could I _become_ a defector? Certainly. But I report to the Queens, and will continue to do so until I decide to stop.” He couldn’t see her face, but the Cephalon could imagine a smirk plastered across her slowly-decaying face purely by the way she was speaking. She was being very careful to avoid saying that she disliked the Queens, but the tone of her voice suggested that her loyalty was only skin-deep: she was a Grineer, so she acted like one. Good. That meant that she might be willing to listen to him when the time came.

A series of small shocks poked at Apra’s mind as he felt more connections being added to his core. Piece by piece, he became aware of larger parts of the body he had been installed into, sections that simply hadn’t registered in his brain until that moment. They were hooking him up, right on schedule.

“Are you prepared to take flight as soon as the schedule allows? It would be the perfect opportunity to show off our power to the system.”

“Actually, I have a question.” Now was as good a time as any, he supposed. It wasn’t like she could have him scrapped now that he was installed into the Tethra Fomorian – at worse, she’d just use the Ascaris device on him again. “Do we really have to use this ship as a symbol of the Grineer?”

The awkward pause that followed gave him a few seconds to worry about whether he had blown his chances of getting off the planet in one piece. He could still hear some background noise of the construction equipment coming through the device, so he knew that Kula was still there, listening to him. Eventually, she simply sighed and moved the communication microphone closer to her face, the sudden motion sending a small burst of noise into Apra’s mind.

“Are you telling me to use it for myself? As my own warship?”

“Not… exactly. Let me phrase it in a different way. You need a Cephalon to control this Fomorian, and I need soldiers to help me hunt down Matus before he can rally the Tenno into their own empire. I am a Cephalon, and you have soldiers.”

She chuckled, the coarseness of her voice seeming to disappear for a moment after she took in what he was actually saying.

“You want us to work together.”

Putting his Neural Sentry precepts on standby, just in case they could be of use – he still had no clue how they actually worked, since his body contained no Orokin technology – Apra dropped the tone of his voice slightly to emphasise that he was being completely serious. He really didn’t want to rely on controlling the General’s thoughts to make this work.

“General Kula, you obviously don’t like working for the Queens, and you haven’t said a single positive thing about them since we met. You kill your own men for small mistakes, even if they’re important. You’re already against the Grineer, you just aren’t admitting it.”

“…We will talk about this later. Prepare yourself for the test flight at once.”

Another shock ran through his consciousness as more pieces of the Fomorian shell were connected, slowly opening up more and more of his new body to his control. Kula said nothing and terminated the conversation, shutting off the microphone she had linked to the modified Ascaris.

= = =

The Relay was deathly quiet. Matus like it that way. Not just in relation to the voices of the thousands of people on board, but all of their thoughts: now that he was in control, everything felt so much more relaxed. He would occasionally focus himself on a certain Tenno’s head, just probing it a little bit to see what kind of mental stimuli he got back – every time, it was as silent as an Orokin library. He had noticed that other Cephalon arrive in their landing craft a long while ago, but hadn’t sent anybody out to dispose of it. It made a good signal beacon, drawing in more and more Tenno who could be drawn under his banner.

However, that Cephalon’s _behaviour_ was the odd part. It hadn’t tried to contact anybody on the Relay since he had touched down, and even with the landing restrictions in place, it was still feasible for the landing craft to pull away with enough force. It hadn’t tried that either. It was almost like its attention had been focused elsewhere, but it wasn’t clear if that was actually the case.

Directing a few of the Tenno’s minds, he pointed them in the direction of the landing bay and sent them out to see what was going on, weapons in hand. At worst, they would have to destroy the intruding Cephalon, but it would be incredibly beneficial to turn it to his side if possible. Matus had already done the same to the other two major Cephalons on the Relay, whatever their names were. The blue one and the orange one. Neither of them had much use to him at the moment, so he had decided to just confine them to their datascapes for now. Expanding his influence just a matter of waiting to see how many people would turn up to the Relay on their own.

Time seemed to pass quickly, probably because he wasn’t doing very much. There wasn’t really much _to_ do, other than pass the time and wait for his army to accumulate. Once enough Tenno were working under the ‘Tenno Enclave’, he would be able to take more direct action, but it was too risky to expose himself now. It was highly likely that the message he had sent out was picked up by dozens of different communities all across the system, and he had no idea how many of them would be on their way to investigate.

It must have been… two days since he took control of the Relay? Messages had occasionally appeared in his inbox about missing Tenno or lost contact with the Relay he was occupying, but he was baffled at the fact that no organized forces had been sent to try and solve the problem. The Tenno were either far less centralised than he had expected, or they were simply using the other Relays and assuming that something had happened to this one. It was absolutely bizarre.

Then again, they didn’t have a leader anymore, did they? What was her name…? The Lotus? According to the data he had gathered from the many servers on the Relay itself, she had simply stopped contacting anybody a while ago, for reasons that weren’t disclosed to the general public. If she was still around, he would probably have had far less success.

Matus was just about to start looking through more files about her when he noticed that one of the proximity alarms had been triggered. Already bored, he dismissed it – it was almost certainly another landing craft bringing a fresh set of bodies for him to add to his group. If it was something serious, there were systems in place to deal with it.

Another alarm activated, then another. It was nothing out of the ordinary, but any ship larger than a landing craft could be some Corpus arriving to trade: he would need to make sure they didn’t suspect anythi-

A large explosion rocked the entire Relay from the midsection out, the strut components straining and creaking under the sudden force that had been applied to it. This was no regular ship. For a moment, Matus was worried that a large asteroid had made contact with the structure, but more and more alarms began to trigger, plunging the entire station into an automatic emergency mode. Lights dimmed and safety bulkheads raised in preparation for another impact.

Commanding all available fighters, Tenno or otherwise, to either take shelter or prepare their weapons and ships for a retaliatory strike, the Neural Sentry accessed the exterior cameras, looking around for the source of the damage. The first two looked out into empty space, but the third one that he checked presented him with a strange Grineer ship, one he had never seen before.

Feeling more frustrated than angry, he opened a direct communication channel to the ship, letting it hang there like a thread until somebody on the other side would pick it up. Nobody did. Instead, a series of eight small missiles were launched from the vessel’s hull, gently drifting through the emptiness of space and impacting on the Relay’s surface with enough force to almost crack the windows.

Extending the channel again, but realising that it would probably never get a response, Matus began to scramble all Tenno who had Archwings, giving them enough freedom to fight independently without releasing them from his control. This would be a tricky situation – the longer they were outside of the Relay that he had turned into his home, the more they would slip from his grasp. He would have to try and rotate them in and out to make sure that none of his newly-corrupted soldiers managed to free themselves.

Another set of explosions rocked the structure, collapsing one of the navigation observatories on a lower level. That made it clear that they were actively attempting to destroy the structure, not just disable it – they had to be destroyed first. The first set of Tenno had boarded their Archwings and went speeding towards the ship, his hold on their minds already starting to gently slip away. Trying to tighten his grip on them, Matus reached out to the lead Tenno and pushed himself inside their head, seeing from their eyes. Remotely, of course – he wasn’t ready to put himself in real danger just yet.

He could feel the Relay’s systems adjusting as some of the landing craft took off, swooping out of the hangar area and falling into formation behind their smaller counterparts. A few sped ahead, preparing to soak up fire if they had to. The Neural Sentry was only managing a small part of the coordination the Tenno were showing – a lot of it came from their own minds, which still retained memories of combat tactics and techniques. Maintaining a balance between the two was extremely important.

Matus watched helplessly as one of the landing craft simply exploded, a massive red-tinted beam of energy carving its way through the hull like a thick knife – a beam originating from the front of the Grineer vessel. One of the Archwings he was observing from skimmed past some of the ship wreckage, coming within inches of a collision: Its Tenno pilot said absolutely nothing. Slowly pushing closer, the giant ship began broadcasting a voice, one that definitely didn't belong to your average Grineer soldier. She was female, for a start: he didn’t remember meeting many of them before.

" **STOP HIDING BEHIND THE TENNO!** "

Another shot rocketed out of the vessel's main cannon and punched straight through another one of the Liset landing crafts that had been moving into attack position the Relay, reducing it to a shower of molten metal and burning hull. Despite not actually being on board the Archwing itself, he felt himself want to flinch as the debris flew past. Everything was much more lifelike up close – uncomfortably so.

The Tenno dove below part of the shattered Liset, barely even reacting as chunks of polymer-infused ferrite brushed by their Warframe’s face. Another beam fired out, hitting one of the other Tenno directly in the face and instantly obliterating them from the inside-out.

“ **NO! YOU STUPID… GET OUT OF THE WAY!** ”

More shots fired out at difficult angles, going so wide that they barely even hit the Relay at all. Interesting. They didn’t want to hit the Tenno. Clearly, they had some idea of what was going on, or at least suspected some kind of extra layer to the situation. He tapped into some of the Tenno’s minds and told them to attack the vessel directly with whatever they had: they would be a useful human shield if it came to that.

= = =

“We really can’t keep doing this, you know. They’ll find out eventually.”

“And do what, exactly? Do you really think they care that we keep doing this, as long as we get our work done?”

Matus was lying, but only from a certain point of view. The other Orokin really _didn’t_ care about what they did, good or bad, at long as they were productive. Unfortunately, Apra also had a point. They _couldn’t_ do this forever. The two had taken a short unsanctioned break from their repair rounds to sit by one of the water features built into the superstructure, relaxing and taking the time to clear their heads, if only for a few minutes.

Tomorrow, the pair were being shipped out to join the rest of the engineers to work on the newest tower. It would be a permanent assignment, or at least as ‘permanent’ as a position like that could get in Orokin society. Matus was hoping beyond all else that they would still be in the same group as Apra, along with all of the other, slightly more distant friends and associates they had made since they began serving the empire.

“That isn’t what I’m worried about.”

“Then what _are_ you worried about, Appy?”

“I’m worried about you, you idiot. You always get yourself into situations like this. You’re reckless.”

Well, he wasn’t _wrong_. Matus had a talent for getting themselves into less-than-ideal circumstances, but it hadn’t stopped them before. Stretching one foot down, the engineer gently paddled at some of the water in the pool below them, watching the tiny waves disturb the rest of the flow and create a brief pattern of bubbles. “I’m reckless because I care about people, you know that better than anybody.”

“The only person you _don’t_ care about is yourself. But I **do** , Matus! If I didn’t care about you, would we really be… you know…”

The sound of the rushing water seemed to dampen slightly as he slowly trailed off, his worry replaced with a small twinge of embarrassment. Matus smirked and gave him a quick pat on the back, making sure to avoid slapping him with any of their engineering gear connected to their suit.

“ _Dating_ , I know. Well, technically, we aren’t, not officially. I don’t really want to find out if they’d let us.” Matus tried to play it off as a joke, but his voice betrayed just how worried he actually was about the Orokin’s presence.

Apra glanced over his left shoulder, then his right, before leaning in to his not-quite-boyfriend. They were both silent for a while, listening to the water and the sound of each other gently breathing in the lukewarm, artificially-perfected air. It was almost nice – you didn’t generally get time to enjoy the Orokin’s architecture if you were in charge of constantly making sure it all worked. Eventually, the taller engineer spoke again, not even bothering to turn his head towards Matus.

“I love you.”

“I love you too. I’ll do everything in my power to keep things that way, I promise.”

“Even if we fall out?”

“You’re not just my boyfriend, Apra, you’re my _best friend_. I’ll keep things that way until I die.”

= = =

“ **STOP THIS MADNESS, MATUS!”**

The Neural Sentry was still watching through his remote cameras on the exterior of the station, feeling a bubbling pool of rage build in his mind as the giant Grineer ship got closer and closer. They knew him by name, and that meant they had read his message broadcast – if they read his message broadcast, there was no reason they would assume that the Relay was any less difficult to attack. He just needed to figure out if it had any external weapons: in his haste to draw in more living bodies, he hadn’t even considered that-

“ **I SAID STOP THIS!”**

A massive detonation vibrated through the entire hull, knocking off power to almost all levels for a brief moment. Every passing second made Matus doubt his plan more and more – if this was the level of power the average Grineer crew could muster, he stood no chance.

Sending out more and more Tenno in whatever ships were available, he began to command individual Relay-dwellers and workers to start repairs wherever they could, even in pipes or vents full of hot steam. If they died, it wasn’t his concern. He just had to stop the-

Another detonation, this time more controlled. It was followed by a series of other small impacts, each one seeming to almost drill into the station’s hull. A couple of corridors on the outer rim of the structure suddenly lost their atmospheric containment. Ramsleds. They were being boarded. He send a few Tenno to try and deal with it, not even checking if they were in Warframes or not. These problems had to be fixed **now**.

Opening up a communication channel with the ship again, he tried a more active strategy, broadcasting direct requests for a ceasefire and an explanation. It didn’t seem like it had worked, but slowly, and surely, the weapons seemed to fall silent. The Tenno out in their Archwings and landing crafts pulled back at his command, respecting the sudden lull in combat.

“Who are you? This is a peaceful Relay!”

The response came through as a simple string of text. _I’m in the Weave._

Odd. The Grineer weren’t’ capable of such things – they were even less intelligent than the Corpus, and that was a difficult title to bear. Keeping most of his attention on the situation outside, a part of Matus reached out to the Cephalon weave, ready to face his attacker.

Entering into his own dataspace, which was now barely even holding together due to the stress of controlling so many minds alongside his own _and_ running a full station, he waited for a moment to see who would appear. Nothing. They must have meant in the Weave itself – he went up to that higher level, keeping the same level of preparedness. Also nothing.

By the time he noticed the single Ramsled slip under his cones of vision and into the main concourse windows, it was already too late. Idiots. It wouldn’t be long before he could just reach out to their minds and-

_Wait._

He tried to use his Neural Sentry-based customisations to probe around for the new arrival. There was definitely another humanoid there, judging by the sudden increase in the number of heat signatures in that area, but… _what?_

Ah, it was easier to look with his eyes not his mind. Still focusing some attention on the massive ship outside, he switched to the internal cameras, and watched as the lid of the slightly-crumpled Ramsled boarding pod swung open.

= = =

Vam Kula was born for this moment. A victory against the Tenno was one thing, but a victory against a relic of the Orokin Empire? That was even _better_. She took a moment to breathe in the stale air of the pod, smelling the sweet scent of the rust and fuel: it was just like the old days, back when she was fighting on the front lines.

“Are you ready, General?”

Strapped to her back was none other than Apra himself, stored inside a small makeshift body they had created for him. It was little more than a speaker with a microphone, connection apparatus and a few tiny server parts, but it would do. He had assured her that he knew a way to block the powers of a Neural Sentry: _a Neural Sentry can’t control a person who’s already being controlled._ She didn't understand it, but she didn't need to. They both wanted the same result - victory at all costs.

“I am ready. The door will open in three seconds. Do it.”

She felt part of her mind slip away, but not all of it. Only the parts that controller her goals – her desire to serve the Grineer, and to fight for both the Queens and herself. She was, at least partially, under Apra’s control.

Smiling, she readied her weapon as the pod swung open, the bright lights of the Tenno structure flooding the interior. It was time to prove herself as General.


	11. The Datascapes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The attack on the Relay continues while Al'rak tries to find some way to gain ground over the situation. Unfortunately, once he's in, there's no way out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be the finale, but ohhhhh boy here we go.

Matus was starting to lose control of the situation, and what was only fuelling his desire to push for a victory regardless of what it would cost him. The lives of the Tenno were a good start: the Grineer ship outside clearly didn’t want to hit them for some reason, so he could easily order them to form a physical barrier. Even better, he could tell them to fly straight into its guns: they would obey without question as long as they remained within close enough proximity to the Relay. If he had just had a few more days, the corruption could have sunk in deeper, and then distance wouldn’t have been a factor anymore.

His connection to the relay was letting him see everything, and that meant that he could see the big, heavily-augmented Grineer officer currently tearing her way through _his_ space station. He had reached out to her again and again, trying to implant the seeds of corruption into her mind, but it just wouldn’t take. It wasn’t that they weren’t _working_ , but something else was pushing him back out, giving him mere milliseconds of control over her body. Enough to lessen the blows of some of her punches against his Tenno soldiers, but not by much. Not that it mattered in the long run: each Tenno that fell was easily replaced by another, then another.

Turning his attention towards another one of the camera and monitor set-ups, he considered broadcasting some kind of message to the intruders to lull them into a false sense of security, but something felt off about the way they were advancing. All of them, even the low-ranked Butchers that were being deployed on some of the lower decks, were going out of their way to cause as few deaths as possible, focusing on injuries and incapacitation unless they had no other option. That didn’t seem to fit with his perception of the Grineer, and it definitely didn’t make any tactical sense.

It was like their roles had been reversed: the Tenno were merely slabs of meat with guns that he would send out to block the advancing vessel, while the enemy soldiers tried to minimize Tenno casualties despite being non-Tenno themselves. Ordering more of the reserve Tenno to fight back and directing the non-combatants to work on repairing the Relay, the Neural Sentry flicked through all of the available cameras again, trying to locate that officer: no matter what he tried, he couldn’t _quite_ reach out to her like the others. Turning the Grineer against one another wasn’t easy, since they were actively aware of his presence, but that didn’t normally make a being immune to it entirely.

He finally caught sight of her bulky, armoured figure again, watching as she moved through a few of the redundant corridors in an under-used part of the Relay’s design. He wasn’t familiar with its layout yet, but there seemed to be no reason to go that way, which made him wonder if she was even part of the same attack force as the other Grineer. That, or she had some kind of plan in mind.

Another series of blasts from the giant ship nearby caused the structure of the space station to shudder, and Matus realised that it was starting to drift closer. There could only be so many soldiers on board, but there was no telling if it was only part of a larger fleet. He decided to dispatch a few Tenno to those sections of corridor and dedicate himself towards the more pressing matter of protecting himself and his new Relay.

Reaching out again, he tried his best to gain control of whatever was piloting the vessel, but he couldn’t locate a singular command room or console. The distance didn’t help: anything outside the Relay was already slipping from his grasp, which is why he had to keep forcing Tenno to land as their minds began to clear. If he had just more time, he could have developed some kind of permanent corruption, but it just _wasn’t working_. By the time he had any kind of control over the remaining occupants of the ship, they could have blasted a hole right through the station.

Another warning alarm sounded, signalling the approach of more ships - Tenno ones. _Perfect_. They would assume that the Relay was under attack and either join the fight of their own free will or land in the hangar, bolstering his forces even further. The enemy were limited in number, and unlike Matus they seemed reluctant to throw everything they had at him.

Suddenly, he felt a poke in the back of his mind, like something had prodded at his head. Odd. It wasn’t a physical sensation, and he wasn’t still technically residing inside the Relay and its combined systems rather than one spot in the Cephalon weave, so there was no way that he should have been easy to reach in that way. Around the physical core that had been his old body – or rather, his other identity’s body – stood a handful of the strongest guards he could find, so there was no way that somebody had been given access to him physically.

Another explosion. The enemy ship was deliberately pacing its shots, but sooner or later they would expose something vital and destroy the station, killing all the Tenno inside.

\---

Apra didn’t like the sensation of controlling somebody that he saw as an equal, but it would have to do. It was that, or let _the other one_ get hold of her instead. He’d left her with enough individuality to fight on her own terms, but managing between that and complete mind control was something that took a lot of concentration. The last thing they needed was for Kula’s mind to get wiped when they were so deep inside a hostile structure.

“I have seen Relay plans before. This is going to be a dead end if we do not turn around.”

Kula herself was starting to speak with a slightly sluggish, slurred tone: a bad sign. There was no turning back now, but if she suddenly became unable to fight…

“Just keep going, I feel something here.”

“You can feel him?” He couldn’t tell if she was actually asking, or just parroting part of what he was saying – hopefully the former, since it showed that she still knew what was going on.

“I don’t know how to explain it, but I can just… _tell_ that there’s something here connected to him. Do you see anything that stands out?” While Apra only had a basic camera installed in the canister strapped to the General’s back, his connection to the Cephalon weave was still mostly there, even if he was only still learning how it worked. Every sight he saw in the real world was underplayed by a constant stream of mundane information, barely related to what was going on, and he didn’t know how he was supposed to filter it.

“No. There is nothing here.”

The sounds of battle had faded, but occasional impacts still rocked the entire structure from the outside in, its artificial gravity struggling to keep up with such sudden deviations. Apra had automatically set the weapons to fire on a timer before he had left, and given one of the other Grineer officers control over where and how to fire, with instructions to deal as little serious damage as possible. Evidently, they had underestimated just how powerful this Tethra Fomorian was. “Alright. We’re not fighting our way through this entire station, and even if we could, we don’t have the time.” He let his grip on Vam Kula’s mind loosen by a small amount. “I’m going into the weave to get him that way. I’m going to have to leave you.”

“If you do that, he will take me too.”

“I know, but I don’t really have any other options. Once he takes you over, he’s going to know everything, so I need you to call in to the other Grineer and tell them not to accept your orders until I can clear you. He _will_ try to use you to draw the others in, and he already probably has most of the distraction teams under control.”

“I understand.”

Doing his best to connect to the weave, Apra fell silent and let his hold over her mind begin to drift away, slowly vacating the physical shell he had been given. Theoretically, it would be possible to place himself entirely within the weave: he couldn’t stay contained around Kula if she was forced to swap sides, after all. The only problem was that he felt his connection to the majority of the weave being blocked, possibly by the Relay itself. “I’ll stop him, General. Anything you do from now until then isn’t your fault.”

And with that, he released her and focused on the nearest piece of the weave he could see – one of the still-active datascapes within the Relay that probably served some purpose before all of this madness had started. Doing his best to leave the physical shell that he was part of, he managed to find an open connection – one normally meant for allowing other Cephalons to visit – and pushed through, his existence slowly but surely translating itself to the non-physical plane. It hurt. It hurt _a lot_.

Oddly enough, as soon as he was there, he felt… calm. The datascape was an unusually warm, fuzzy place: he had no idea if that’s what they were all like, but this one in particular seemed small and cozy, with a distinct connection to a physical representation of itself in the real world. The Cephalon that inhabited it clearly spent a lot of time communicating to organic beings, considering that there was a large walk-in connection that acted as a seamless entry point between the real world and the weave.

There didn’t seem to be any security, at least not now that the inhabitants were gone. Taking a quick look around, Apra was rather… disappointed with what he was. It was practically just a small platform of metallic blue cubes, all of which either bobbed and weaved in the air or stood stock-still in a fixed position. The sky was full of strange white swirls and trails, placed against a light blue void that stretched out forever. Very odd, but now wasn’t the time to critique the local Cephalon’s taste in furniture.

He began to sort through all of the data stored within, looking for anything that he could use. There was plenty of information on something called ‘datums’ and the act of collecting them, as well as random scans of various items from across the system, but nothing explicitly helpful. Not initially, anyway.

After a few moments of in-depth searching, he noticed that something was slightly amiss with the way the datascape was formed. To a trained eye it was probably nothing, but he couldn’t help but notice it considering that he had been in barely even three datascapes during his entire life as a Cephalon: a small discrepancy in space, where the visual movement of the background didn’t quite add up properly. He didn’t really know what it was, but it was clearly something worth looking into. Still, there was more data to check.

Most of it was still useless: reports on certain Tenno, a list of messages from various individuals who presumably worked with the Cephalon… all of it seemed fairly useless in this situation, but he had to be sure. Missing even the smallest advantage could leave him stuck when the time came to actually fix things for good.

Suddenly, he began to notice a pattern. _Synthesis_. It was coming up in a lot of the messages and data logs, some of them even boasting about new ‘synthesis targets’ or the way that combat and tactical data had been gleamed from them. According to the sender’s address, it was from another Cephalon, one who referred to the inhabitant as ‘Suda’ and was near enough to send physical operatives to her on occasion. Another step in the chain, maybe?

Saving a copy of any messages that might be useful, Apra turned towards the strange split in space again, deciding to investigate it a bit closer. It wasn’t until he got near that he realised it was actually a separate surface entirely, disconnected from the normal background: a screen. Peeking around it, he realised that it had been used to camouflage something hidden far off where no organic being could even reach it. _A hole_.

All he could see on the other side was a strange orange-gold glow, not unlike some of the Orokin technology he had seen so long ago. It brought back some… sorely-missed memories, but he could reflect on that later if he was still alive and in control of his mind. By now, General Kula would probably be struggling to keep her own independence, which meant that time wasn’t a luxury he had anymore.

Pushing himself through the strange hole and feeling his presence getting sucked between two datascapes, the Neural Sentry tried to prepare for whatever he’d see next. If he could just find something that would connect him to the Relay directly, he might be able to force Matus out for good. If he couldn’t, then he was stuck with nowhere to get back to the physical world, at least not that he knew of. Still, it was better than the alternative.

After what felt like a few seconds, he popped back out the other side of the hole, the bright orange tint being completely at odds with the comforting blue he had been surrounded with earlier. This place was oddly different: while it looked similar in terms of design, the cubes were replaced with cracked pieces of Orokin geometry, chief among them being a big doorway that seemed to be closed off. It didn’t lead anywhere, and was probably just a visual reference for organic beings, but it was… strange to see it again. Maybe this other Cephalon was another survivor of the Orokin like he was.

This time, the datascape wasn’t isolated: he could feel multiple different sections, each with their own intentional changes and tweaks. Doing his best to connect to… whatever this place was, he started to look through all of the information associated with it, trying to figure out if there was anything _here_ that might be useful. Again and again, the word ‘synthesis’ continued to appear, each usage of it making him more and more interested in what it actually _was_.

And then, in a set of floating data that he had almost missed, he spotted the world ‘sanctuary’.

\---

They were finally starting to push the Grineer back. Matus had begun to poke away at their officer’s mind, slowly forcing her under his command without giving her a chance to reliably fight it off. She had managed to get a message out, unfortunately, but it didn’t matter. Once he took her over fully, he would know exactly what she’d said, and could just reverse any commands that were a problem for him. It seemed like that was that – once she was gone and the remaining invaders were either mopped up or converted to his cause, he could freely destroy the ship outside and continue on like nothing had happened. It was quite literally just a matter of waiting, but he continued to observe anyway, relishing the fact that he was actually able to do any of this.

Everything had gone as planned, with only a few minor hiccups along the way.

The prodding at the back of his mind occasionally continued, but he had begun to ignore it. It really didn’t matter who was trying to gain access to him, because they would never be able to stop his forces now. The Tenno were, and always had been, one of the greatest weapons in the system, and he had just taken them by the handle.

Delivering a few more repair orders to this mind-controlled soldiers and keeping watch on the battle outside, he paused for a moment, wondering if it was really _this easy_. One or two Tenno had died, but he wasn’t concerned about that – what mattered was the victory here, since it would send a message to the rest of the system that he was fully prepared to defend himself. As soon as all of the Tenno joined his ranks, he could finally set about with the last stage of the plan.

 _He was so excited_.

Ever since the Orokin had mistreated the Tenno, he had known that there was a better way. He could make them into a unified force and finally stand up to all of the war in the system, reclaiming it under one banner and one mind. _His mind_. Everybody would be able to relax and enjoy themselves that way, with no more violence or aggression between factions. There would never be another Orokin Empire or anything like it, and he would finally be able to relax in a society that didn’t hate itself.

The prodding continued. It was starting to annoy him now, getting sharper and sharper. There wasn’t much Matus could do about it, but he dispatched about one hundred of the Relay’s regular citizens to go and search everywhere that might have some connection to the structure’s important systems, just to be safe. It was possible that the Grineer had tried to sneak a saboteur on board and he simply hadn’t noticed, but based on their previous behaviour it wouldn’t be a threat to the station itself. If they had wanted it destroyed, they would have done so with their ship already.

\---

Sanctuary. If the data Apra had gathered was correct, this was some kind of datascape simulation system – probably the only thing he’d found so far that might actually be useful, but only if it could work in the way he hoped it would. The actual space of sanctuary itself was pure data, but there was a small testing area that was much easier on the eyes, looking somewhat similar to the space used by that other Cephalon: for one, it was a similar shade of blue, but with more focus on black surfaces instead. Various tags and notes in the associated data called it ‘the Simulacrum’, whatever that was supposed to mean.

From here, he seemed to be able to summon things. Well, their recreations, at least: a datascape-only version of a real creature that would presumably act in the same way as its real-life counterpart. There were dozens of beings here that he had never seen, each from different factions and groups, along with the proper gear needed to create them and adjust how they acted. This must have been something that Matus either overlooked or simply didn’t care about, but it could be-

Something moved.

Freezing for a moment, the Neural Sentry slowly turned to look around the room. He _knew_ that something had moved in the same datascape: he had felt the data that composed the space adjust to accommodate it, but it hadn’t moved far. It felt like he was being watched.

For the first time since he had become a Cephalon, he spoke from within a datascape environment. “I know you’re there.”

Slowly, and with great care, a pink, cube-shaped object hovered out from behind one of the Simulacrum’s pillars. For a moment, Apra thought it was just another part of the environment, and he was surprised when it replied in a quiet, nervous-sounding male voice. “Who are you?”

“You tell me first.” He wasn’t about to take any risks, not now.

“I’m Malthus, Social Adjustment and Emotional Trauma Assistance Cephalon. I don’t know what happened, but I’ve been confined to the Simulacrum and I… don’t seem to be able to leave.”

The name set Apra on edge. It wasn’t _quite_ the same as Matus’ but it was close enough to unnerve him, and these was always a chance of this being an ambush. “What are you? What do you actually do?” He deliberately drew out the question to give himself more time to try and find some of the controls, something that he could use if things went downhill quickly.

“Well, under most circumstances, I act as a thera-“

“ **A therapist.** ”

“Yes, that’s… that correct.”

This was some kind of trick. This wasn’t Matus – Matus could never pretend to be this nice on purpose, especially not with somebody who was being impatient with him. He had always had a very reckless streak, which often meant that he was just stupid enough to ignore tricky plans in favour of immediate action. Something was wrong here. “…do you have any idea what’s going on outside?”

The pink cube dimmed for a moment, still hovering in place. “I’m afraid I don’t, I haven’t been able to leave in a while. Did the Tenno ever get cured of that strange affliction they were having?”

“Affliction?” Apra was almost amused by that description, but now really wasn’t the time for amusement. “You mean the Neural Sentry.”

“A _Neural Sentry_? We don’t have one of those, unless… did Mister Ki’teer bring one back again? He spends a lot of time in the Void collecting odd items…”

“Listen to me, this is serious. There’s a Neural Sentry on this station that I have a very _personal_ connection to, and he’s taking over every living thing that boards it. He already has the other Cephalons, too. The fact that you’re here means that you’re immune somehow, and you have a suspicious similarity to him that I don’t like.” The cube seemed to shudder slightly at his words – maybe he really _hadn’t_ known any of this was going on. “I don’t trust you, but I need your help because you’re the only other non-controlled being here. Tell me how I can use this Sanctuary system.”

Slowly floating over to the main platform, Malthus didn’t seem to question him – at least, until he suddenly jerked to a halt in mid-air. “Wait… I should know who you are first.”

“My name is Apra, I’m with the Grineer that boarded this Relay.”

“ _GRINEER_?” He had barely finished speaking before the pink Cephalon replied, sounding like somebody had just stomped on his foot.

“Yes, the Grineer. A particular General, General Vam Kula. We’re here to stop the Tenno from getting mind-controlled and swarming over everything else in the system. The only Tenno that have died so far have been by Matus’ hand, not ours.”

“Where are Cephalon Suda and Cephalon Simaris? Why are they not still here?”

Apra didn’t know what to say. He had seen neither of them, but he knew Suda existed based on the messages from earlier. As for this ‘Simaris’, he had no idea. “I don’t know, but I haven’t seen them. This isn’t a normal Neural Sentry, so he might have control of them too. None of us know how deep the corruption goes, either. I need you to show me how to use this Simulacrum and how to get into the rest of the Relay’s systems before he notices that I’m here.”

The silence between them lingered for a few seconds as Malthus dimmed again, probably trying to digest all of that information. “I have to support the Tenno, no matter what it takes. If you’re lying to me, I won’t be a very happy Cephalon.” He floated over to one of the control panels on the Simulacrum’s main platform, opening up an interface that appeared out of thin air. “Come here, I can show you how to use the debug tools. Simaris taught me once, in return for some… favours that I would rather not disclose.”

“I don’t mean to be rude, but your history doesn’t matter here. Show me.” More and more screens opened up, showing different statistics and variables on thousands of creatures, each listed as strings of text and numbers. Apra recognised a few of them, like ‘Grineer’ and ‘Lancer’, but the rest were all meaningless to him.

Hovering to the side, Malthus’ form brightened just a tad. “Here! Take a look at the display and I’ll explain how it’s supposed to work.”

\---

The prodding in Matus’ mind had turned to thumping. He had more or less contained the situation, with the Grineer ship moving further away to regroup and the invading forces almost all captured or killed, but that feeling in the back of his being was still there. The fact that he didn’t know what it _was_ kept irritating him, but his controlled soldiers and civilians had failed to find anything.

After the constant explosions and sounds of gunfire had died down, things had become oddly calm again. Since every organic being on the station was under his command, there was no panic: they either stood by and waited, or proceeded on with his orders, not questioning his decisions or trying to focus on protecting their own valuables. It was _efficient_ , something his Grineer attackers lacked.

Suddenly, one of the Relay staff members he had controlled – some of the non-syndicate security – reported in, broadcasting directly back to the command room his physical shell had been situated in. The message was, once again, efficient: “There’s a makeshift Cephalon container here.”

 _A Cephalon_. That changed things. Evidently, the Grineer _had_ been a distraction, but not for the kind of sabotage he expected. Come to think of it, the officer he had corrupted seemed less bulky now than she did when she had first arrived – peering into her mind, he tried to skim any relevant information he could find from her brain, looking for mentions of a Cephalon.

_Apra_.

Well, that was a surprise.

“Is it empty?”

“It doesn’t have power.”

 _Hmm_. They wouldn’t be carrying an empty container, especially one so expensive and difficult to make. The Cephalon was already somewhere on board, and he would need to deal with them himself: considering that he had shoved that weed of a creature called Malthus into the Simulacrum, he would start by looking in all the others first.

The information he had taken from the Grineer was more than enough to explain exactly what he had feared: they were aware of him not just by name, but by his identity as a Neural Sentry: the former had been in the message he had broadcast out to the system, but the latter was nowhere near as public. Somebody knew him better than he had assumed, and that meant that there could have been contingencies in place for him reveal the entire time he had been on the Relay.

It could even have been Malthus himself. Matus would need to crush the little runt when he had the time.

Just before he was about to leave, he remembered that he still had two Cephalons under his command – or was supposed to, anyway. How that he actually tried to use them, he had no idea where they had gone to. It wasn’t a major issue, but it meant that he would have to do this on his own. Then again, maybe it was for the best: these Neural Sentry upgrades weren’t fully tested, and using them now could be a massive risk to the end result.

Opening a connection to Suda’s datascape, he slipped right though, already thinking up plans for how to deal with whatever he met on the other side. With an entire army at his back, he couldn’t possibly lose.

\---

Apra had sort of picked up how the Simulacrum worked, although it was still oddly fiddly. They _were_ debug tools, but even so, they were oddly restricted. “Can these simulated soldiers actually fight?”

The pink cube – he _refused_ to call him by his real name, owing to what it sounded like – seemed genuinely interested to know what he meant. “That’s why they’re here. They can only harm things inside a datascape or the weave, of course. That includes organic beings, but they can’t be killed: it only terminates their connection.”

That wasn’t perfect, but it could work. “What would happen if I used them to attack a Cephalon? Let’s say I attacked you, what would happen?”

“Well… I would rather you didn’t, but if you _did_ , it would terminate my presence in the datascape and the rest of the weave, and would probably… force me back to my own datascape, I suppose.”

 _Better_. “Alright… what if you were already in your datascape? Where would you go?”

Once again, the pink cube dimmed in thought. “Simulated beings are designed to ‘kill’ their target through rendering them unresponsive and forcing them back a ‘step’. In that scenario, there wouldn’t _be_ another step, so it would terminate my connection to them entirely until I could re-establish them. In other words-“

“Force you out of the weave completely.” Apra had an idea. A really, really _stupid_ idea, but an idea. “Is there an easy way to transfer these simulations into other datascapes?”

“Oh, yes, it’s possible. Simaris has done so before, but only when absolutely necessary. I believe all simulated beings work like any regular creature, and can go between datascapes – they just can’t leave the weave. If they are killed, they simply dissolve, so they need to be re-created every time. At least, I believe that’s the case. I’m no expert, you have to understand.”

Apra started looking for other exits into the relay’s systems, and realised that the simulacrum itself was technically connected to some key parts of the space station itself. Not only that, but somebody had just opened a connection between Suda’s room and the command area: a mixture of bad news and good news, since it meant that both sides could now go wherever they wanted. “Malthus, stay here and simulate as many soldiers as you can. I’m going after the Neural Sentry: when you feel the signal, start sending them after me and make sure that they’re going to fire on everything except me and each other. If they die, make more.”

“I’ll try my best! But… what’s the signal?”

“Trust me, you’ll know it. If I can manage to create it, anyway. I’m going to be putting myself in a risky situation, so if I don’t ever send one back, assume that I failed and try to find help some other way. Don’t you _dare_ stab me in the back.”

The cube seemed to pause for a moment. “Like I said, I can only try my best. Oh, and… you should take on a proper form if you’re planning on that. It’s easier to get the simulated beings to distinguish shapes as friendly targets – programming an identity filter is very, very difficult.”

He didn’t have a form? In all the chaos, Apra had actually forgotten to create a consistent shape for himself. It was mildly embarrassing, realising that he had been appearing as a swirling mass of data up until now. Deciding on something basic, he cycled through a few standard shape until he eventually settled on a plain lime-green triangle. Hopefully that would be distinct enough from whatever Matus had chosen to look like.

“Alright, I’m going. Keep preparing those simulations, I think we’re going to need-“

His words were cut short by a sudden fuzzy sensation in his mind, the feeling of a new being entering the datascape he was currently part of. That was a bad sign. _Very bad_.

Trying to locate the source of the new arrival, both Apra and Malthus froze in place, turning around and looking for whoever – or whatever – had caused it. Apra had a fairly good idea of what is was, but at this point he couldn’t take anything off the table.

And then he saw it.

In the middle of the Simulacrum, floating high above any of the solid surfaces, was a single white cube, accented with what appeared to be strips of gold and bronze. It was… regal, uncomfortably so, like somebody trying their hardest to appear like they had some kind of authority.

Then again, in a way, Matus did.


End file.
